


Canis Minor (Part 1)

by FrankenBean



Series: The Black Night Sky [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: And then Lockhart, Canon Compliant, Deals with nightmares and past trauma, F/F, F/M, Features wonderfully supportive teachers, Gen, I gave the meds to her a decade early, I put the archive warning in to be responsible but it should be suitable for age 13+, Just learned how to tag so fixing this, Lockhart is a bit more of a poop in this fic than in canon, No proper ships as such since they are all like 11, Please can people tell me if anything needs to be added to these tags., Plot slightly deviant from cannon, Protagonist has ADHD, Protagonist suffers from panic symptoms relating to PTSD, Setting is 90s Hogwarts and South of England during Holidays, This is basically a series that is Harry Potter but from an alternate perspective, Who I hate, and that's really not what I wanted from this fic, as Ritilin/ADHD meds weren't really prescribed until the 2000s in the UK, but there are hints of crushes, cause 1990s Britain was pretty cruel to kids with ADHD, nothing is too graphic, pretty fluffy, ships will be in later parts of the series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2020-06-29 16:36:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 84,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19834204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrankenBean/pseuds/FrankenBean
Summary: Jamie has been on the run her whole life. All she knows is that her mother fled England during the last Wizarding war and that they were running ever since that is, until their pursuer found them. Her mother was killed and the killer leaves Jamie for dead. In hiding and alone as an 8-year-old witch, living between the magical and muggle world, Jamie longs for the arrival of her Hogwarts acceptance letter and the promise of safety that the school poses.Canon divergent from Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets onwards. Just a bit of fun to get my writing muscles back to work.Most of this fic is suitable for general audiences, however, it does get very dark in the last two chapters. I always wondered about The Chamber of Secrets and why is was just a big room with a statue and a snake, so I went into it, trigger warnings will be at the start of any chapter that needs them if I miss something that is a trigger please give me a nudge and I will add it ASAP.Been on a fairly long hiatus due to some personal stuff but I am back now and spent my first week of coronavirus lockdown editing and reformatting and writing so giving this a bit of an update.





	1. Just a Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> I know that according to the Harry Potter Wikipedia and Pottermore and such that acceptance letters are not received on a student's birthday as this would mean students born in August would not receive their letters until after the final date for owl responses to be sent to Hogwarts (July 31st). However, I also think it isn't logically or logistically possible for Muggle parents to receive letters and explanations about magic being real in early to mid-July, just drop all plans and preparations they had in place for their children's muggle secondary education and send off their children on September 1st. So in my head, Children in muggle families and homes all receive their letters on Halloween/Samhain and the week that follows which is like a half-term break like in most British schools so that staff have a chance to go out to the muggle homes to explain things to parents. Magical born students, on the other hand, would receive their letters on the summer solstice 21st of June. Sure it isn't exactly like the books but it makes more sense to me. 
> 
> Harry was sent his letter by owl with the magical born student letters because Dumbledore assumed the Dursleys would have told Harry everything and not made plans for secondary school. Whereas Jamie receives hers on the 31st of October which happens to be her birthday because her guardians are muggles and she has not been allowed to talk about magic at all to them.
> 
> I feel this explanation makes more sense than the book version because it takes into account the socio-political subtext that isn't mentioned much by JK Rowling. All the muggle-borns we meet in the books tend to come from wealthy backgrounds, Hermione's parents are both dentists and there was a character who talks about having been on the waiting list for Eton, these are people whose parents would have had to put months if not years into preparation arrangements for their children's secondary education and it makes no sense that they would be able to change plans so easily.
> 
> It's been confirmed on Pottermore that Minerva McGonagall received her acceptance letter on her birthday, but also that her birthday is 4 October 1935 but also on Pottermore that students don't receive their letters on their birthday So I figure it's fair to say this is another case of JK Rowling saying stuff and then forgetting she said stuff. My explanation somewhat fixes the issue and suggests that maybe in 1935 they had a particularly large influx of muggle-born and half-blood students and so they had to do multiple stages of staff rotationing going out to talk to families and giving letters to cope.

Jamie could taste the iron of her blood in her mouth. It choked her ragged breath. It was hot and stuck to her face, her hair, her throat and her back even as the water from the river of the bank she lay on tugged at her. It was as though the river wished to wash away the horror of that afternoon. Cloudy sleepiness tugged at her mind even as she struggled to open her eyes to the blinding sky. Was she dying? She did not think anyone would be able to survive the fall she had. At least it would be here, under the vast sky with the sweet smell of the cool water at her head and the sound of birdsong to lull her asleep, not up to where she had come from, with his knife and cold taunting words.

A scampering, shuffling sort of noise sounded to her left, light feet coming closer. And then a soft pair of voices, like the babble of a spring in a thicket. 

“Na- he cuin, mama?”*

“N- dínen! Im tur- hear hon, Mín must hurrui!”**

Jamie felt small cold hands at her face, opening her mouth and placing what felt like a finger coated in what tasted like leaf paste on her tongue followed by a trickle of cool crisp water. She swallowed it down, sure she would choke if she did not.

The small hands left her and she heard light footsteps retreating before her breathing slowed and her whole world went black.

~ ~ ~  
31 October 1991, 4:37 am

Waking in a cold sweat, Jamie sat up in bed and wiped her hands down her face. She focussed her breathing as Dr Clarson had taught her. In through the mouth, nice and slow, out through the nose slow and even.

The mid-autumn night air was cold and dry and exactly what she needed to help her brush away the terror of the night. Shucking the tangled bed sheets and blankets from about herself she got up, reaching for her favourite jumper.

Two hours from dawn, the night was dark and there was no birdsong but there was little likelihood of more sleep now. 

It was her birthday, her 11th, and while she wished she had been born just a few months earlier so that she would already be at Hogwarts now, there was trepidation and excitement to the early morning. Today she would get her acceptance letter.

Two and a half years ago when she had first arrived in Britain, her small limbs cold and her scars still tender, her mind had been focussed on one thing: Find Diagon Alley, find the post office, write to Dumbledore. Those had been her mother's words, ones burned into her mind by the panic she had seen on her mother's face. It was something she had to do for herself.

No doubt, a scrawny, unaccompanied 8-year-old entering the magical post office had been an unusual sight, and the request for someone to help her write and send a letter was even more so; but the staff had been friendly enough and after hearing her message had offered her a handful of peppermints and a pitying look.

_“Dear Proffessor Dumbledore._

_My name is James Schwarz and I am 8 years old. My mother was Olivia Schwarz. She always spoke highly of you and of Hogwarts._

_I am writing because my mother died last month and with no direct magical relatives left, I have been placed with some distant muggle relatives the Ministry found who have agreed to be my assigned temporary guardians here in Britain. The man from the Ministry of Magic told me that due to the Statute of Secrecy my temporary guardians could not know of magic at all, even if I turn 11 and go to a school for magic._

_My mother said she did not know if I would be accepted into Hogwarts since while I have British citizenship, being born here, I grew up in West Germany. She told me to write to you to ask, and if I wasn't on the list, to ask if you had any advice for applications to schools in Europe._

_I have already been placed with my new guardians and had to sneak out to send this but will not be able to receive a response from you if you send one by owl so I have included a pre-stamped envelope with my new address._

_I hope this reaches you well, thank you for your time.” ___

Jamie had caught hell when she had snuck back in through the window of her foster home that morning, but after the explanation that her mother had asked her to send a letter to someone before she died, her guardians had been stumped and muttered something about how they could post anything she needed from then on and that she was never to go out alone again.

Two days later had brought the morning post. A large envelope (much larger than the one she had enclosed) but stamped and addressed to her in neat loopy scrawl was handed to her. Inside was a letter, expressing the deep regrets of the passing of her mother, an assurance that the Headmaster of Hogwarts himself had gone up to examine the famed Book of Admittance and had found her name there inscribed meaning that a letter of acceptance would be sent to her the morning of the 31st of October, which happened to be her 11th birthday. It also included the application details to Beauxbatons and Durmstrang Institute in the event that she desired to attend those instead.

The Headmaster had also insisted that when the time came for her acceptance letter to arrive, a member of staff with experience in Muggle environments would come to call to give a Ministry-approved explanation to her guardians as well as to answer any questions she might have and accompany her to Diagon Alley for her school supplies. Last of all the package had included a photograph. It had more than likely once been a magical photograph that moved but the charm had been stripped from the paper. Leaving only a faded black and white of five girls, sat near a lake on a clear sunny day, their robes on the ground beneath them, their shirt sleeves rolled back, all laughing as though their sides were splitting at something the one on the far left had said. The speaker, a girl with brown wavy hair pulled back in a messy bun, a grin that meant mischief and twinkling dark eyes. Her mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Elvish: “Is she alive, Mama?”  
> ** Elvish: “Be silent! I can hear him, we must hurry!”


	2. A Long Awaited Letter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the books seem to indicate and most people believe that Term always starts on the 1st of September, every year, but that just didn't make sense. It's not how schools work and it would be a logistical nightmare for parents to get their kids to work for 11 am on a weekday. When Harry goes to school on 1 September 1991, it is a Sunday, which makes perfect sense as they travel on Sunday and get to the school, have dinner and then start school properly the next day (Monday the 2nd), but typically, schools start the Monday closest to September the first for consistency of term lengths.
> 
> In the Chamber of Secrets where they are all running late and Mr. Weasley still needs to get in to work which is why he is peeved at Ron and Harry for the stolen Ford Anglia, it is written as though it is 1 September 1992. I, however, am going to reject this notion entirely and say it's Sunday the 30th of August because I am a stickler for logistical reasoning. Mr. Weasley is a civil servant working for the Ministry of Magic and civil servants get time and a half overtime pay for working Sundays (two and a half times their normal hourly pay). Having had to scrape out far more money than a usual school year to pay for five sets of all of Lockhart's books, I figure Mr. Weasely is stressed out of his mind and working overtime every weekend. He would already be stressed from having to start the workday later meaning less money and then being late for the train meaning even less, only for his son to steal his car and make him even later. It makes far more sense than just the normal stress of a workday because the time that was lost was almost an entire working day's pay and they really really need it that month. (35 Galleons for his book set = 175 Galleons, 1 Galleon is just under £5 so £875 of unbudgeted expense. For reference, inflation between 1992 and 2019 is about 77% so it would be like having to budget for about £1, 550 ( about $1934) extra expenses that you had no warning for.
> 
> If there were roughly 600 students in Hogwarts for 1992 as JK Rowling has suggested it means Gilderoy Lockhart made £26,550 ($33 133) in modern terms with inflation added, in a month. Almost certainly more than Arthur Weasley makes in a year. 
> 
> #Lockhart deserves a far worse punishment than obliviation, that plagiarising, money-grabbing fraud. Oh, I hate him.

31 October 1991, 6:37 am

Having been unable to return to sleep after her nightmare, Jamie had gone over her homework due that day for school, re-checked spelling, reviewed notes and when maths equations and science facts still weren't able to pull her mind from that night, she had grabbed up her clothes for a bath and then proceeded to sit on the bottom of the staircase with a book while half-heartedly nibbling at an apple. Her school bag packed and by the door with her shoes and a lunchbox.

Two and a half years with her guardians and they had not been able to rid her of her unshakable independence. She had memorised her route to school before her first day, she made her own lunches and completed her homework before getting home from school. They thought she was afraid of letting people in and the child psychologist they sent her to for regular sessions thought the same.

But for Jamie, it was more a case of preparedness. Life couldn't take you by surprise if you were planned and prepared.

It was also a case of necessity, the less time she spent around one set of Muggles, the less likely it would be for them to notice the odd things that happened around her.

A favoured mug dropping to the floor while being washed and bouncing unbroken was one thing, talking to creatures no one else could see could be written off as a healthy imagination, but bullies having their faces stuck in jeering poses when the wind changed, or levitating books was quite another and the Ministry had been clear about the potential for damage in the case of necessary obliviations.

So on the whole, she kept her distance, was polite and dutiful, completed chores without being asked to do so and attended as many extra-curricular activities as she could. Mr and Mrs Harris, Jamie's guardians, just thanked their lucky stars that she wasn't rebellious or likely to turn to drugs and gangs in the upcoming years.

When 7 am rolled around, footsteps could be heard dully on the drive and then the telltale ca-click of the letterbox and the thunk of post landing on the welcome mat.

Mr Harris could be heard upstairs asking Mrs Harris if she had seen his left shoe while she called back from the shower that she hadn't. Mr Harris' shoe was hidden behind the large potted snake plant by the door. How it got there was anyone's guess, Mr Harris was the sort of person who had a heart of gold but would most definitely lose his head if it wasn't attached to him.

Jamie put down her book and bit her lip. It would be there, her letter. She knew it.

With a slight sense of paranoia that it somehow would not be there, she edged forwards in her socks, picked up the pile and took it all to the kitchen. Junk mail to the recycling bin, a takeaway menu from that place down the road Mrs Harris' work friend had raved to her about latched to the fridge with a ladybug magnet. Mr Harris' mail in his place at the kitchen table on top of the paper, Mrs Harris' mail on the counter near her coffee cup; and finally, a thick, large envelope addressed to James Schwarz

Slow breath in. Slow breath out. She did her best to lift the pretty wax seal instead of breaking it but it broke with a diagonal tear as true sealing wax was want to do rather than modern aesthetic reproductions.

Four pages of heavy parchment were enclosed as well as a small note on a regular piece of letter paper.

The note was in the same loopy handwriting as her previous letter from Headmaster Dumbledore had been.

_“My dear James,_

_I wish you the very best of 11th birthdays and hope you are well. Typically, for muggle-born students acceptance letters are hand delivered by a member of Hogwarts staff in order to explain magic to parents and answer questions of the student, however, given the Ministry's firm view that your guardians can not be informed, a new system has been devised._

_You will find enclosed in this envelope a letter from myself for your guardians' perusal, the letter will suggest that due to your mother having been an alumnus of Hogwarts boarding school (a very prestigious school with wonderful facilities up in Scotland), you are being offered a place in next year's catchment. Included is a list of equipment and books typical of a muggle boarding school. Aside from this are your true acceptance letter and equipment list, charmed to appear to muggle eyes as simply a copy of what your guardians have for the student to keep themselves._

_A member of staff will be arriving a week from this Saturday. They have a background in the muggle school environment and are adept at quick thinking, I have no doubt they will be able to answer any concerns your guardians may have as well as accompany you to Diagon Alley this coming summer holidays to purchase your school supplies. I have been assured that Mr Pilchard, the muggleborn employee from the Ministry of Magic who has been assigned to act as your social worker will be joining you as well in order to charm all your supplies to appear muggle safe._

_Taking a leaf out of your book, somewhat, I have enclosed a stamped and addressed envelope for your response letter. It will be delivered to a friend of mine in a muggle village who has agreed to send it on to the school by owl. As such, please send your response before the 15th of July this year in order to ensure receipt by the 31st._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

_P.S. This note will disintegrate upon completion of reading for safety purposes” ___

Jamie looked around slightly panicked by the postscript but instead of spontaneous combustion or a loud bang and wizz of disintegrated confetti, the letter simply began to shrink rapidly until it was little more than the size of an ant before the slightest pop of a blue spark and then it was gone. 

As the headmaster's letter had indicated, the next two pages of neat and expensive looking stationary were a muggle acceptance letter to a prestigious private boarding school, mentioning how Jamie's mother had left in her will set aside funds for school expenses and the desire for her child's attendance, followed by a list of rather obscure, old and somewhat pretentious sounding muggle textbooks and details for the visit of a member of staff and Mr Pilchard for next Saturday. 

Jamie noticed that the household calendar on the fridge had a note penned in for Saturday. “Social Worker Pilchard wants to check-in. Buy jammy biscuits.”

Smiling at Mrs Harris' intimate knowledge of Mr Pilchard's biscuit crazed habits during visits, Jamie flicked hungrily to the last two pages.

_“HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

____

____

_Dear Ms. Schwarz,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on Sunday 30th of August with the Hogwarts Express leaving promptly at eleven o'clock in the morning from Kings Cross station, Platform 9¾. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress”_

She knew this was a letter that was written up and sent out on mass to all the students, that in many ways it was not special, but it still oozed magic from the very fibres of the paper.

The next sheet was even more exciting.

_"HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_UNIFORM_  
_First-year students will require: ___  
_1\. Three sets of plain work robes (black) ___  
_2\. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear ___  
_3\. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar) ___  
_4\. One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings) _  
_Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags.___

_____ _

__

_COURSE BOOKS_

_All students should have a copy of each of the following:_

_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)  
by Miranda Goshawk_

_A History of Magic  
by Bathilda Bagshot_

_Magical Theory  
by Adalbert Waffling_

_A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration  
by Emeric Switch_

_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi  
by Phyllida Spore_

_Magical Drafts and Potions  
by Arsenius Jigger_

_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them  
by Newt Scamander_

_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection  
by Quentin Trimble_

_OTHER EQUIPMENT_  
_1 wand ___  
_1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2) ___  
_1 set glass or crystal phials ___  
_1 telescope _  
_1 set brass scales___

_____ _

_____ _

_Students may also bring, if they desire, an owl OR a cat OR a toad._

_Please note that due to potential staff changes, further correspondence may be sent to you around by the 21st of June with any further equipment needs or revisions._

_PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS  
ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICK_

_Yours sincerely,_

_Lucinda Thomsonicle-Pocus  
Chief Attendant of Witchcraft Provisions" _

Jamie was ecstatic but carefully folded all four pages and returned to collect her book from the stairs. Mornings were busy times for the Harris' and it was still only Thursday. The news would keep until the weekend.

Catching up Mr Harris' left shoe from the floor, she went upstairs. Placing the shoe on the landing in front of the Harris' bedroom before returning her book and the letters to her room.

The news would keep, but for the first time in a long time, Jamie was excited. 


	3. A black cat kind of morning

31 October 1991, 7:26 am

The Harrises had not been much surprised to find Jamie awake so early, they had long since chalked her up to being a little odd, but promptness had never been seen as a negative quality in their household, so after wishing her a happy birthday, and plying her with toast, Mrs Harris presented Jamie with three square paper wrapped parcels.

The girl had expressed early on a shyness towards extravagance, gift-giving having been part and parcel in that and so after their first year together the Harrises had compromised. Jamie would graciously accept gifts wrapped in brown paper and would keep a list available of things she wanted or needed. More often than not, the list contained non-fiction books about everything from law to mythology and gardening, never novels although she read with speed and precision those that were assigned at school and occasionally items needed for extracurriculars.

IIt was as though the girl was so sure of life being fleeting that she endeavoured to dedicate her time to only things that would prepare her with more knowledge about the world or be involved with self-improvement. Dr Clarson, the psychiatrist had been emphatic that while unusual, the girl's behaviour was non-harmful and seemed to help her cope with the trauma of losing her mother.

Today's gifts were no exception to the rules. A small paperback that was a short introduction to the English legal system and a larger paperback which detailed in layman's terms the rights and responsibilities of citizens as well as some history regarding major legal changes to human rights law in the UK. These had been Mr Harris' choice; he had pursued a legal career in his youth until turning to legal consultancy and was rather pleased to see that his young ward had recently been asking him innumerable questions about the law and legal professions.

Mrs Harris had opted for more usable gifts with a pair of running shoes and a pair of boxing gloves. Mrs Harris had been lacrosse captain during her school days but Jamie appeared to be a more solo-sports person and while her ladies book club tutted about raising a tomboy or expressed fears of rough play, Jamie was wiry and tenacious and had a seemingly boundless amount of energy and if she wasn't sent to run the block or if her self-defence classes were cancelled for whatever reason the girl would be restless and underfoot from the moment she left school until the moment she fell asleep. It was better to let her run out her energy during the day or her feet would tap tap at the kitchen table all through dinner. And while the girl was small, only about 4”5 and slim, she seemed to hold her own against the boys at the sports club, dodging hits.

The final package was a pencil set with a book of nice sketch paper. The Harrises liked to think their ward was well rounded in intellect, creativity, and sport and Jamie had a penchant for doodling on any scraps of paper she had at hand when bored, it seemed the only creative outlet she allowed herself..

Stepping outside that morning, not even the chilly, cloud-covered sky could break through Jamie's mood. She adjusted her school bag, hiking it further up her shoulders and calling in goodbye to the Harrises before shutting the door and stepping from the porch.

A shadow stirred in her periphery vision, darkening as it thickened and slid down the wall, past the light to the stone of the step where it arched and then stretched out where, shaking itself, murky darkness became black fur.

“Never can catch you off guard, can I Bast?” said Jamie, fondly shaking her head “Even when I leave an hour early for school.”

The cat, for that, is what now stood on the front porch, trilled before jumping from the step to brush against Jamie's legs.

Bast was one of the many inexplicable things she was glad her guardians didn't know about. The cat had appeared shortly after Jamie arrived in England, but she could have sworn that looking back, shadows had always seemed to shift and move as though following her.

Every morning when Jamie left the house, there was Bast, fluffy tail and greeting trill at the ready before accompanying her on her way, flitting into shadow and out of sight once arriving at a destination.

At night there was always a part of the night's darkness that seemed thicker, that lay along her side in the crook of her armpit and sometimes there was a feeling of wafted air near her nose or a meow when the nightmares got too bad.

Muggles seemed unable to see her... or him. Jamie really wasn't sure how to apply a pronoun to a darkness that swelled itself into a cat occasionally, but Jamie had named her Bast after reading a particularly good book about Egyptian mythology.

Nevertheless, even in cat form, Muggles had never looked twice at the two walking side by side, which was surprising given she stood at eighteen inches high and forty-nine inches nose to tail. Larger than even huge Main Coon cats, with fur that seemed to greedily take in all the light that came near it, aside from a splattering of silver-white guard hairs flecking the base of the neck and upper chest. Her eyes were a brilliant gold-green and seemed to glow, surrounded by the dark face and muzzle.

Jamie idly wondered if Bast would go with her to Hogwarts. She wasn't a pet, not technically, more a mystical being that had decided to guard Jamie wherever she went, but her letter had said she could bring a cat, although whether Bast would be any more visible to other witches or wizards than she was to Muggles remained to be seen.

Jamie tucked her scarf in tighter to her coat and jumper, hooking her sleeves further over her hands, her breath coming out in a puff against the cold air as she made her way to school. School started at 8:45, but the librarian got into work for 7:30 and so long as no one else was in the hall, she would let Jamie in to sit in the far corner near all the reference books and with big windows overlooking the outside play area. She liked it there, Bast would curl up in a puddle of shadow beside her rucksack while she read or did homework at her favourite desk. She would miss this spot, sometimes the sun would beam down and warm her back, never so bright as to glare off her notes, just warm. She hoped there was somewhere like that at Hogwarts.

Her walk wasn't far and soon Bast was slipping into the shadow of the school's entryway overhang, a twitch of movement, a trick of the light that no one ever focused on for too long.

Pulling open the big oak door and slipping inside, Jamie waved quickly at Ms Henderson, the receptionist who had looked up from her typing to give her a smile and the usual: “Morning James, you're early this morning.”

It was their tradition. Ms Henderson was one of the few people who ever called her “James” rather than “Jamie”, same with teachers, it seemed that reading registers and filling in data forms had that effect.

“Morning Ms Henderson” Jamie answered.

She was halfway through the lobby before Ms Henderson called out. “Oh, James! Ms Nelson called in sick this morning.”

Ms Nelson was the school librarian. Jamie looked to the far side of the lobby; the library was dark. 

Jamie sighed, “Terrific.”


	4. A good day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I wrote this chapter with a lot of research and it meant a lot to me because a large number of people in my family having ADHD and struggling with it and with medication. However, after writing it I found out that while in America, Ritalin had been used to treat children who were underachieving at school since 1962 and ADD and ADD with hyperactivity (which was how it was referred to back then) were reclassified as diagnosable conditions treatable with Ritalin in 1980 from the previous name "hyperkinetic impulse disorder"; Ritalin was not voted through/cleared for use in the UK until November 2000.
> 
> This poses the very real problem for a writer of weather to completely re-write the chapter for historical accuracy which would involve the socio-cultural views of teachers and guardians alike that ADHD children were merely willful and disobedient. It would involve a lot more darkness and a lot less support for the character as Corporal punishment was still legal in private schools until 1998. I really wanted Jamie's story to involve living and dealing with disorders and their symptoms like panic attacks and hyperactivity while still showing the moderating techniques of medication and sport and a celebration and acceptance of her differences in a parallel of how Harry was treated despite Harry being neurotypical. I also wanted to have the thought of how the magical community viewed itself as superior to that of the muggle world and for that to be demonstrably incorrect with modern psychology and medicine. Therefore, I am going to leave this chapter as it currently is but will perhaps write a separate/alternative version with the dark and troubling mentality of 1990s Britain if I ever have the time or motivation.
> 
> So yes, I know I just turfed some history out the window for the sake of my sweet sunshine puppy character who just needs love and support. In my defense, JK Rowling has written sooooo many historical inaccuracies that I don't even feel bad about giving my character some medicine and support a decade early.

31 October 1991, 7:55 am 

Breath in. Slow and steady and even. Breath out.

Her vision had blurred, distorted images of children running by, their laughter growing muffled by rising panic. Jamie shut her eyes.

In and out. Her hearing was clearing slightly, breath evening out ever so slightly.

“Mirouw?” a shadow thickened slightly around her ankles.

“I'm okay.” She whispered. “I'll be okay.”

One last slow breath and she opened her eyes.

There were kids playing tag and jump rope. Little kids splashing in puddles or chasing each other with slugs they had found on the ground. She got like this sometimes, mostly around large groups of people. The panic would rise with half-formed notions of slips of accidental magic, the noticing of difference leading to the well-worn fear of discovery.

Her heart clenched. She looked from group to group. Two years at this school and she had studiously avoided forming anything that might be a noticeable friendship. She endeavoured to be kind and polite to everyone in classes and at lunch but spent most of her time alone, reading, running or if her energy was too high, going from group of friends to group of friends for games, never staying with one group for more than a single lunchtime.

It was lonely. Sometimes the other kids wouldn't want her to join in since they were in the middle of a complicated game of pretend; or she would notice that as she approached, the kids would stop their conversations, not comfortable speaking their secrets around someone they still perceived as a stranger.

She understood, it was lonely, but she understood. Her mother had told her that this was the best way to protect them, be friendly but single no one out as specific friends, that way no one would be a target if she was still being hunted.

Jamie had once been sure that her pursuer had long since left her trail, having discovered her body, limp and lifeless and bloody on the riverbed in Germany. The paste that she had had put into her mouth by the unseen elvish creatures had turned out to be the base components of the potion Draught of the Living Dead. It had slowed her heart to a stop while preserving her. But the paranoia was slow to dim, all she had ever known had been running and stopping for brief periods of time before moving on. Nowhere was home, her mother was home and that had been okay.

Taking another slow series of breaths, Jamie refocussed herself on her surroundings. Playground, right, yes, the library was shut, and she didn't fancy sitting alone in a stairwell for the next hour until morning registration. The panic had died down a bit but the frazzled, on edge feeling lingered still. She needed to tire herself or she would never focus in class. She had taken her Ritalin medication before breakfast, but it had yet to kick in.

She looked around, she could play hopscotch although that wasn't nearly exertive enough, kickball with the boys, although she really didn't want to be in her own head right now.

She looked over to Sarah, Nicole, and Jessica who were busy jumping rope, nice girls who were always willing to let her play with them so long as they weren't sat down, huddled in a group sharing secrets, to get into that you were expected to disclose secrets of your own.

Sarah and Jessica were holding the two ropes, Sarah was singing the jumping rhyme while Nicole skipped, and Jessica was chatting to her younger brother Louis who was sat on the ground drawing with chalk and keeping score. That would work.

She walked over, smiling tentatively. “Can I join in?”

Nicole beamed wide at her. “Still trying to beat my record, James? I won't let you win just because it's your birthday today you know.”

That surprised Jamie. “How'd you know it was my birthday?”

Jessica piped in, “Classroom birthday board. Nicole was trying to count how many weeks left until hers yesterday. Did your mum send a cake?”

The words brought a brief stab of pain. “You mean my foster mum? Mrs Harris? Was I supposed to bring a cake?”

“Nah, just would have been nice. I love cake.”

It was at this point that Nicole began to tire, jumping out of the ropes while they kept spinning in time.

Jamie didn't think twice before jumping in, in her place. “What was that record again, Nicole? I'm 11 now, got a whole 'nother years’ worth of jumping energy.”

She laughed, “537. Bet you can't beat it!”

Jamie chuckled too as Nicole headed over to take over the rope holding from Jessica. “Bet I can too, even if you totally made that number up!” They both laughed.

After 601, with Nicole muttering darkly about revenge for her shattered record, the girls told Jamie it was Jessica's turn to jump. Probably for the best since Jamie could probably have jumped until the first bell of the day. Instead, they alternated, teams formed, doubles were played and so by the time they were ready to go inside they were warm even against the Autumn morning, their socks which had been pristine white were splattered with little drops of dirt from the damp ground and Jamie felt lighter, thinking back on her letter from that morning and the future that it promised.

~~~

After registration was over, Jamie's teacher called everyone's attention.

I see by the class board that it's James' birthday today. The girl in question looked up quickly from where she had been doodling in the margins of her school diary. Her ears turned a bright scarlet as she prayed to whatever higher power may or may not exist that the teacher was not about to commit her to endure the embarrassment of being sung to.

“Shall we all wish her a happy birthday then?”

The blush spread from her ears to her neck until she was sure her face was as pink as her desk mate’s Barbie pencil case (without the glitter of course.).

The teacher enjoyed these moments, Jamie was sure of it, there was a twinkle of sadistic delight as she started up the first verse, the other students egged on by her mortification sang louder. She was after all the first birthday in the class for the school year, and she hid her face in her hands until they were done.

When the caterwauling had ended and the teacher had finally gotten the boys to stop the call and answer hip hip hurrahs, Douglas Freeley piped up with: “Oi, you mean you were born on Halloween, what are you? A witch or summat?”

Jamie held in a laugh as her teacher tried valiantly to explain that there was no such thing as witches and that being born on the 31st of October was in no way different to being born any other day of the year. Jamie thought of the hex bag in her coat pocket which covered her scent from detection from magical beasts or the stick her mother had found for her to practice wand motions when she got bored that currently sat in the umbrella pocket of her school bag.

The school day started in earnest after that, with the usual amount of “James please stop clicking your pen.” and “James tapping your pen against your leg isn't much better.” but that was normal. The Ritalin helped, but teachers tended to expect that it would somehow stop the issue entirely. An hour before lunch, Jamie took her second Ritalin. They had a substitute teacher in for Maths who immediately tried to give her detention for eating in class until she had hauled out the medicine's dosage instructions. It was old hat by now.

As the day drew to a close, Jamie wondered if there was a potion for ADHD, which led to her worrying about how she would get her prescription when she would be in a castle as far away from muggle society as it was likely to get on the tiny Island of Britain. Or thinking back to the substitute teacher, what if the teachers didn't believe that the muggle medicine would be effective or that it could even be necessary. She had spoken to some witches and wizards growing up, all who were thoroughly convinced that muggle medicine was as useless or harmful to a magical body as potions were to a muggle one.

She would have to ask Dumbledore... or the staff member from the school, or maybe Mr Pilchard would know...

Today being Thursday meant running club after school. Definitely good. She didn't think her technique or reaction speed would have been at all what it needed to be for self-defence or academic tutoring with her mind so distracted.

The house was only two blocks from the school so Jamie rushed home to drop off her school bag and change clothes. She looked between her old running shoes and the ones she had gotten this morning and decided against the new ones for today. They would need to be broken in properly and Mr Wilson, the running coach had seemed like he was planning on running them ragged last week when he mentioned a plan for them all to work off the energy of the Halloween sweeties he was sure they would all be munching later that evening.

She added a new layer of duct tape to hold the laces down and ensure mud didn't get in through the top of the shoe and another piece to secure the ankle since the shoe heel was getting cracked and worn.

It proved to have been a good decision going for the old pair of shoes as when Jamie trotted up to the old chain fence around the sports field where they always started the session with a warm-up and a stretch, there was a large obstacle course nearly set up. It included some of the muddier puddles on the waterlogged grass, with stepping stones to jump between, hurdles and cones and even a large portable climbing frame and the old school basketball hoop which looked to have a bell tied to the very top. A grin broke across her face. This was going to be fun.

As the other members of the club trickled in, responses were mixed, some looked enthused, others more sceptical, a few girls were eyeing up the mud puddles with disdain. Jamie was never the fastest in the club. Some of the others had already had pre-secondary school growth spurts while others who were more average for their age still had two or three inches on Jamie. But she could think and react and change direction faster than any of them and kept her footing sure and steady. Her balance was nothing to sniff at either, being lower to the ground had a few advantages.

Jamie was bouncing from foot to foot by the time everyone had arrived.

“Right, team.” Mr Wilson called out. “We're going to divide you up into groups of four. Alice seems to be missing so one group is going to have to either have somebody run the gauntlet twice or we will average the times of the three other team members and add it to your total.”

Mr Wilson paused, amused eyes skittering to Jamie who seemed to be about ready to run the coarse twice straight right this second. “Looks like that's not going to be a problem.” He mused to himself but a few of the older kids from the secondary school nearby heard and chuckled too.

“Okay then! Usual warm-up laps and stretches, on your marks, GO!” 

~ ~ ~ 

By the time Jamie got back to the house, she was covered in mud. It plastered her from her black wavy hair, part of which had escaped its ponytail holder and hung in clumps near the side of her face, down to her soaked through and very broken trainers which squelched delightfully every step she took. She had run the course twice one at the start and one at the end, she overlapped Henry Londis from the secondary school even after faceplanting and sliding her way across the mud puddle. She was pretty sure her hands and knees were grazed and would burn like anything under the hot shower. But she had never felt more alive.

The wide, toothy grin she had for Mrs Harris who had confusedly answered the door had grown when the woman had laughingly asked if she had decided to dress as a swamp creature for Halloween, before dropping an old towel on the floor and helping Jamie shuffle to the small toilet under the stairs that had a shower in it.

“Today,” Jamie thought as she bit her lip through the pain of the hot water washing away the mud and blood of her knees and elbows. Today was a very good day.”


	5. Gabriel Pilchard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Background info dump chapter woop. For reference, this chapter takes place on Saturday, 9 November 1991, 9:43 am, a week and two days from when Jamie receives her letter. The idea being that a member of Hogwarts staff brings muggle-born children their letters from the weekend after Halloween to the following weekend (2nd to the 10th November) during a school half-term break. Jamie got her letter through the muggle post on the 31st in order to explain to her what was going to happen and so that her guardians did not think it was rather rude and presumptuous of the school to just decide to send someone immediately after the letter was sent.
> 
> I have made an edit to this chapter, adding the new section that finishes with Professor Snape arriving.

Mr Harris had never quite known what to make of Mr Pilchard. The slim and balding man who was now sat before him at the kitchen table with a cup of tea and his third jammy dodger had first presented himself to the Harrises two and a half years previously, explaining himself to be from social services delivering the unfortunate news that a distant relative, One great-granddaughter of Mrs Julia Harris' great uncle, had been orphaned and that the Harrises were the closest blood relation findable. It had been explained that the girl's father had died less than a year after her birth and that her mother had been a scientist, researching some species of plant (Mr Harris could not recall) when she been met with a tragic rock climbing accident.

The girl, Gabriel Pilchard had informed them, had been with her mother at the time. An adept climber, she had been accompanying her mother on her research trips since she was a tot. The girl had suffered multiple abrasions but was recovering well. The reason for Mr Pilchard's arrival at the Harris home had then been rather unclear until he had stipulated that Mrs Schwarz, the girl's deceased mother had been interested in amateur ancestry research and that is how the Harrises had been found. Her mother had also seemingly left to the girl a fairly large sum of inheritance, with a small allowance to be released to her yearly until she came of age and inherited the full amount. It was made clear then that Mr Pilchard was acting under the advisement of the Schwarz family solicitor who had expressed fears for the girl's fortune and wellbeing were she to be placed into the adoption/Foster care system.

As it turned out, the news had been near fateful for the Harrises who had tried unsuccessfully for years to have a child of their own. They agreed to take the girl in immediately.

The real story behind Jamie's placement with the Harrises was far less fortunate in its fatedness.

Gabriel Pilchard was a man who had for a number of decades been the one and only employee in operation of the International Magical Confederacy's department of miscellaneous and obscure magical activities.

Which in short meant that he was a man who was extremely talented at a great many things that a great many people knew little to nothing about. He was one of those indispensable persons working away in the background where you never knew they were even important or even noticed their existence until they took a day off sick and a series of seemingly unrelated issues sprung forward all at once.

Effectively, the International Confederacy, as well as the Supreme Global Wizengamot had named him to be singularly diplomatically immune. He was placed under ferocious numbers of unbreakable vows and probably knew more about the state of the wizarding world than anyone else did.

It was why National Ministries for Magic the world over, took no notice of him so long as he filled and filed all the necessary paperwork with all the necessary departments and sent triplicate copies to the National Magical Hall of Records whenever he did anything. The paperwork was always correct and so very few people even knew of his existence let alone his whereabouts.

Mr Pilchard had been one of the leading international advocates for early intervention in what the Magical Confederacy was now referring to as “The Voldemort situation”.

British socio-ideologies had long been a point of contention, particularly among the other European agents of the Confederacy and Voldemort had been the last straw that had broken the camel's back in terms of the other Confederacy agents’ patience.

Germany's delegates were particularly riled by the British delegates' superiority complexes and notions of “blood purity” and Pilchard did not blame them in the least after the whole horrific tragedy with the Muggle war that had not even been that long ago.

However, deciding anything by conference tends to get nothing decided and even less done. And so, by the time “He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named” apparently outright disappeared after failing to murder a toddler, Mr Pilchard had invested himself and his time into the subject all while the bureaucrats debated and postulated.

It had been during these investigations that Gabriel had come upon a young woman, hardly more than nineteen and on the run. She had left everything, the man she loved, her friends and what little family she had left because she knew a secret about Voldemort. A dark secret that could end him for good, and he knew it. Voldemort had found a way to track the woman with blood magic scrying. She had been Apparating every five minutes to an hour for three days by the time Pilchard found her, she rested in half-hour increments and her strength and magical energy was beginning to wear thin.

Gabriel had done what he could, called in favours with the Fae court to provide a temporary magical blocking curse on her so that she could rest, found and warded a remote shack in the depth of the Scottish Highlands. It was only then that he began his search for the means to defeat Voldemort, but he was there the day Olivia Mistry broke down in tears, collapsing to the floor of the little shack as she wept. She had just cast a detection charm on herself and realised she was pregnant. The man she loved believed she had abandoned him, so swiftly had she left in order to keep him safe, and now their child would never know its father.

Once the second trimester of pregnancy began, powerful maternal magic would keep her and the child safe. It was magic more ancient and powerful than wands or incantations. Maternal magic made a witch magically undetectable to anyone and Olivia had reasoned that at least once the child was born it could perhaps be raised elsewhere, untouched by the blood magic trace that would hunt Olivia. But by the time the child had been born, Voldemort seemed else ways occupied. There was not even the hint of a scrying probe for months.

Pilchard had been the one to fill in, file and seal the new baby's birth records.

“What will you name her?” He asked, pen at the ready. He was surprised when she spoke.

“James.” she had said simply, “I am going to call her James. Jamie for short.” she was smiling as though it were some personal joke.

“Bit of a strange name for a girl, don't you think?” He enquired, pen hesitating. “After all, if we go ahead with moving you both to West Germany, she will get all sorts of notice. German's are rather particular about gendered names.”

The first true smile he had seen on her since their first meeting bloomed across her face, a loud, musical laugh splitting the cold November night air

She gazed down at her baby, holding the tiny hand with her thumb and forefinger. “I think James is a perfectly wonderful name for a girl.” She said with her laugh still undulating through her words.

Gabriel suspected this did indeed have something to do with an inside joke from a happier time. Either that or the pain potions he had given her for her recovery were kicking in a little too well. Never-the-less, he penned in the details for all the documentation.

When the two were both asleep, baby in a transfigured crib that had once been a wooden bucket, Gabriel had left to go file the paperwork with all relevant departments, sealing the documents with his own crest of need-to-know basis protections of all details.

Neither Gabriel, nor Olivia, nor even baby James noticed when a shadow slipped through the shack's closing door, stretching and fluffing into a very large cat which took up residence in the crib by the child's side, gazing vigilantly at its new charge.

When the child was four months old, Olivia received a fire letter, something only someone she trusted with her life and location could have sent. She told Gabriel that she knew someone who had been working under Voldemort, someone who had made an unbreakable vow of loyalty and friendship to her years earlier. The message said that Voldemort had been focused on a prophecy, one that foretold of an enemy that could destroy him, but that he had not forgotten Olivia, that just that evening the instruction had gone out to a team of trusted followers, to do whatever it took to find and kill her, no matter what. The message ended saying he would take the first step in helping her fight back, but that he did not expect to live through the act.

~~~

It was 8 years later that Gabriel had been sitting in his office at the International Confederacy department headquarters that a message came through to his fireplace. 

“A caller has asked to speak to you directly, sir.” Said a bored-sounding call directions officer.

“Who is it?”

They refused to say, sir.”

“Did they say what it was about?”

“No, sir.”

Fear tightened in his chest. There were only a handful of people who knew how to reach him at his office directly and even fewer who were under the instructions to speak to no one else or give no indication of their identity.

His anxiety grew but he stepped towards the small footstool he kept by the fire and sat down. “Put them through,” he said.

When the small, tear-streaked face of a girl appeared in the coals, he knew. Something bad had happened.

“James?” he asked. The small face paused, her lower lip wobbling with suppressed tears. She nodded. “Where are you?”

~~~

Gabriel Pilchard examined the Harrises over his fourth Jammy-dodger biscuit. He was glad he had chosen the Harrises. He had trawled through hundreds of Muggle records from adoption agencies to fertility clinics. He had needed them to be Muggles, the wizarding community was too small, everyone knew of everyone else at least in vague terms. He needed to distance the girl from her own identity. He thought he had covered their tracks, that they would be safe after Voldemort disappeared. He had misjudged the fanatic's follower’s dedication, he would not make that mistake again.

The Harrises were of a comfortable wealth band, an important factor Gabriel had taken into consideration when selecting them as after over two decades of Conservative government, budget allocations for social care systems were rather low and any attention, even that of muggles noticing a young girl in the Foster care system attending a mysterious private boarding school, was too much attention in Gabriel Pilchard's book.

But importantly, the Harrises had desperately longed for a child. Gabriel knew more than anyone else that Jamie could look after herself far better than most children, she didn't need Carers, she needed people who cared. Despite everything she had been through, he knew she loved fiercely. He smiled, touching a small woven band around his wrist. She had given it to him the last time she had seen him during the “annual social worker check-in” he had undertaken.

There had been evidence enough for Gabriel that Arnold and Julia Harris cared deeply about this girl from the moment she had arrived on their doorstep, her back, arms, head, and ankle bandaged and her steel grey eyes wide and afraid. Now he delighted in how invested they seemed in today's topic, Jamie attending Hogwarts.

Julia was smiling and telling Gabriel of the previous Thursday when Jamie had arrived home caked in mud. Most people would have been furious at the girl for the mess, but Julia had only found it funny. And once all the mud had been cleared and iodine applied to the scrapes, Jamie had told the Harrises both about the letter she had received that morning.

Arnold and Julia were both very intrigued, they, of course, wanted to give Jamie the best possible educational opportunities and of course, they wanted to allow her to follow her mother's wishes of attending, but they were both sceptical of the idea of a boarding school.

“It's just so far away.” Julia had said, she had bit her lip and looked to the kitchen door, Jamie was busy taking the kitchen rubbish bag to the big bin out in the back garden. “We'll hardly get to see her.” she had whispered.

It was a delicate thing, balancing who had what information. The Harrises had been told they would be “temporary guardians” rather than full adoptive parents so as to seclude them from the magical world entirely, it meant greater ease for dealing with the paperwork of any obliviations should it ever be necessary.

Gabriel had visited Dumbledore before even bringing Jamie back to England. The old wizard had, of course, said he would be discreet about the girl's identity, and would play along with the story of remembering the student Olivia Schwarz (nee Jones). A girl who graduated several years before any Olivia Mistry had done. But he had been rather infuriatingly stubborn about making an unbreakable vow about protecting Jamie, that was until Gabriel Pilchard had done something he never had before, he pulled rank and threatened.

Oh yes, he was no fool. He knew that Dumbledore was one of the most powerful wizards alive, but there was too much at stake. The continuous revolving door of Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers, the ex-Deatheater-but-it's-okay-he-was-spying-for-me, the rather shady squib caretaker who seemed overly fond of thoughts of violence. It was all far too easy for a slip of the tongue or a whispered word told in the wrong corridor to put Jamie's life in danger.

As far as Gabriel knew, there should be no reason for any dwindling followers of Voldemort's to care that Jamie had survived, but they seemed like the sort of people who killed for fun and liked to finish up tasks with all the strings tied up.

Dumbledore had eventually conceded. Making the vow to never reveal to anyone who Jamie's mother was nor was he to leave clues or suggestions for anyone to work it out, nor was he even to reference Olivia Mistery in relation to Jamie, due to appearance or demeanour or aptitudes; and Gabriel thanked his forward planning that he had insisted they meet in his own office in the International Confederacy headquarters rather than the Headmaster's own chambers at Hogwarts which contained many magical portraits who would not have been bound by the oath and who had other frames they could visit. The Headmaster did not like being painted into a corner or told what to do. Dumbledore had agreed that for all intents and purposes, as far as he knew, Gabriel Pilchard was just a man who worked for the British Ministry of Magic and had been assigned to oversee the delicate situation of a magical child living with temporary muggle guardians.

Gabriel had thought that Dumbledore had somewhat gotten the message about the severity of the situation, until Jamie received a letter containing a picture of Olivia. Another visit with the Headmaster who had sworn that no other images of her existed in the school and that he had only meant to give the child the image for purposes of comfort. Gabriel considered himself a patient man, but the elderly wizard severely tried his limits.

He had almost asked Jamie to give up the picture, to burn it so that she would be safer. But in the first two weeks with the Harrises, the girl had suffered night terrors on a daily basis, waking screaming and drenched in sweat, until the letter and the picture had arrived. According to Julia, that night she slept. Hunched into a ball and clutching the picture to her chest, but she had slept.

IInstead of destroying the picture, he had blood bonded it to Jamie. Only she could see it, to anyone else it appeared horrifically water damaged, and she was to tell them she had had it with her when her mother had had the accident that killed her. The story was that they had been climbing a cliff edge near a waterfall to study a specific type of lichen when the rock gave way. Jamie had fallen into the river below while her mother had hit the bank.

The little girl had nodded, absorbing the story like a sponge.

“And don't trust Dumbledore.” He had added. The girl looked confused. “He's sneaky and likes to know things that aren't his business. Don't make direct eye contact with him or any of the other staff. For all either of us know, they might all be trained in Legilimency.”

~ ~ ~

Back in the present, Gabriel and the Harrises continued to make small talk as they waited for the Hogwarts staff representative to arrive.

“It is a weird name for a school, isn't it though” Arnold Harris joked, throwing a smirk at Jamie

Jamie laughed when he pressed his finger to his nose and started oinking.

They were interrupted by the doorbell.

“I'll get it,” said Jamie, getting up and bouncing to the door. Excited energy rolling off her in almost visible waves.

The door opened upon a rather tall, very dour looking figure. His face was pale, and his eyes were almost black they were so dark and he had a rather large hooked nose. His hair, which was jet black, had been glamoured, enough so that a muggle would just see a typical teacher style short haircut, but not glamoured enough that if she concentrated, Jamie could see that his true hair was almost shoulder length and rather horrifyingly greasy.

For want of any better description, he looked as though he would rather be anywhere else, with an irritated sort of tightness to his chin.

His eyes locked on Jamie, who remembered Mr Pilchard's reminder about avoiding eye contact. It wasn't too difficult, from her low height, it was just easier to stare at his chin instead.

“James Schwarz?” His voice was nasal and monotonous, almost trying to compensate for its lack of tonal variety by beginning the question at a higher volume. Like many British people Jamie had met, he could not roll his “r's”, so her surname sounded more like a drunk snake hissing. Jamie swallowed back the smile the image had created.

“Yes, sir,” replied Jamie. She got the sense that this was the sort of person who did not deal in pleasantries or small talk.

The man raised an eyebrow and humfed. “I thought you were a boy,” he said.

“No, sir.”

The man seemed appeased by swift answers. “Well, Miss Schwarz, I am Professor Snape, I'm here to talk to your guardians about Hogwarts.” He made no mention about answering questions she might have herself. Definitely, not a questions sort of man, Jamie resolved to remember that for classes next year.

She opened the door more fully, signalling him into the house.


	6. Honey badger Hufflepuff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did quite a bit of research and found that 1991 was a pretty big year with changes to the national curriculum for year 6s and the beginning of voluntary acceptance of girls into Scout groups and a whole bunch more.

Saturday, 9 November 1991, 12:38 pm

For his part, Professor Snape was exactly as Dumbledore had promised, quick-thinking enough to come up with answers and reasonings to all the questions the Harrises had posed. He scaled up sizes of year groups to be proportional with an expected boarding school, he claimed to be the head of Chemistry, which Jamie surmised to mean Potions, explained that Biology (which Jamie thought must be Herbology) and Physics (which she guessed must be transfiguration) were taught as separate subjects rather than the simple “Science” subject offered by most secondary schools. He was even quick to assure the Harrises that no, the offer to Hogwarts was not conditional upon Jamie's achievements in her Key Stage 2 maths and English examinations she was to sit this May. Jamie helped cover the momentary look of confusion that had crossed the man's face at this question by mentioning how since the tests were very new (the newest change to the curriculum having just been implemented this year), that surely conditional offers would not make sense.

But Professor Snape also exuded a cold sense of disdain, as though it were beneath him to explain anything, let alone interact with muggles. Jaimie decided that even if he did teach what she suspected might be the most interesting subject, that she did not like him and would make every effort to avoid him where possible. Bast didn't seem particularly keen on him either. No one else seemed to have noticed but there was a patch of darkness under the kitchen table that had situated itself directly between him and Jamie.

He did seem to be moderately surprised when Mrs Harris asked: “and what about sports, then? Jamie will no doubt go quite mad without some form of regular sports.”

Snape had glanced over at Jamie, a rather calculating look in his eye. He explained that the school had four houses which competed against one another for points both in academics and sports. He then tried to explain “Quidditch” which he explained as being a sport developed centuries ago and was fairly specific to Hogwarts and its sibling schools in Europe. He also mentioned being the head of one of the houses “Slytherin” which he claimed was the best house for supporting ambitious young learners rising to their goals and aspirations.

Jamie's mother hadn't gone into much detail about Hogwarts, keeping mostly to social memories, so she didn't have to feign interest even if the information was heavily filtered, but she did know about the houses. She knew that during the war nearly every one of Voldemort's known followers had been in Slytherin. Her mother had said never to judge a book by its cover, that it was true that the vast majority of Slytherin students were just ambitious even at a young age, but Jamie was not particularly keen on the idea of being in close proximity to people in a house notorious for valuing blood purity. Blood purist ideology meant knowing everything there was to know about another person's parentage which Jamie could not reveal. She did not care if people assumed she was half-blood or even muggle-born, it didn't matter to her.

Before long, Professor Snape seemed to have reached capacity for explanations and began making preparations to leave. He mentioned that closer to the start of the new school year a member of staff would visit again with Mr Pilchard in order to assist with the school shop, suggesting that the books, equipment, and uniform could only really be procured at certain locations. He pencilled in a date for this meeting for the 20th of July before nodding curtly and beginning to stand. Mr Harris hurried to follow, showing him out the door and shaking his hand. Jamie noticed that as Professor Snape walked to the door that he seemed to favour one leg as though the other was recently injured, but quickly looked away when the Professor seemed to glare at catching her look.

With the Professor's cold presence now gone from the room, Mr Pilchard laughed dryly over the last of his tea.

“I don't think they let that one get out much.” He said.

Mr Harris snorted slightly as he returned to the kitchen. “He did seem awfully pale, even for someone who spends most if not the entire year in Scotland.”

Mrs Harris did not laugh; her eyes were directed at Jamie who was flicking biscuit crumbs across the table distractedly. Mrs Harris hesitated a moment before tentatively reaching across the table and covering Jamie's hand with her own. The girl's gaze flicked to the woman. “Is it what you want Jamie? It's okay if it isn't. I'm sure your mother would have wanted you to be happy regardless of what school you go to and there are many other schools we can choose from.”

Mrs Harris had her heart in her eyes and Jamie could see clear as day how much she cared, even how much she would prefer Jamie to stay here.

Jamie's mouth was dry, and her heart clenched tightly. She coughed slightly to clear the tightness from her throat and looked quickly over at Mr Pilchard who seemed equally moved.

“I... I think I'd like to go.” Jamie said, her voice was not as strong as she wanted it. She took a breath before continuing.

“It's not just 'cause mum wanted it, though that is a part of it. Growing up, mum used to tell me stories about Hogwarts, how much fun she had, the friends she made, how beautiful the grounds are. It's where she met my dad. I think being there, walking the halls she did will feel a bit like she's still around.” Here Jamie bit her lip, determined not to cry and laughed as she remembered. “I even still have some of her old school notes.”

Mrs Harris nodded, looking over at her husband for support to hide how her eyes had been threatening moisture. She hated how this little girl referred to the first eight years of her life as “growing up” as though she was now done with all of that childishness.

Mr Harris rested his hand on his wife's shoulder, and she held it. “I suppose it won't hurt that during your no doubt wild and rebellious teenage years that you will be away for the school term, forced to focus on your studies, far away from the temptations of clubs and concerts. And you will be all the more delighted to spend time with us during the holidays.” He joked, taking a seat and looking around.

He wore his typical “I have misplaced something but don't want to ask yet” face. Jamie rolled her eyes and slid him his half-finished mug of tea.

“Of course,” Jamie snarked back, “you know me, party animal. Gotta go learn some self-discipline.”

Everyone chuckled a bit at that.

“Do you think you'll end up in his house?” Mrs Harris asked her, indicating the door Professor Snape had exited with a tilt of her mug. “Slytherin was it? You are fairly ambitious.”

Jamie wrinkled her nose at the idea. “I hope not, ambitious friends are one thing, but could you imagine trying to approach him about a personal problem... also you always say green makes me look washed out and that's their house colour.”

Mrs Harris laughed outright. “Hmmm yes, a very practical concern. Alright, what house was your mum in then?”

Jamie flicked her eyes very quickly to Mr Pilchard who nodded almost imperceptibly, giving her the go-ahead. “Ravenclaw.” She said. “Blue and bronze. Typically, the nerd house. And mum once mentioned dad being a Gryffindor, they wear red and gold and tend to have a bit of a jock vibe. I always liked the stories she told about Hufflepuffs. They seemed like the nicest bunch, didn't care about house rivalry much and just made friends with everyone. Also, their symbol is a badger and their colours are yellow and black, just like the flag of Baden-Württemberg, the state where we used to live.”

Mr Harris smiled at this. When Jamie had first come to live with them, they had taken her to a wild animal park down near Canterbury. The little girl with sad eyes had trailed around, not really taking anything in... until they had gotten to the honey badger exhibit. The Harrises were going to simply walk past it until they noticed the girl had stopped, hands gripping the chain-link fence around the sunk exhibit area. The slightest hint of a smile had been on her face. That year for Christmas Mrs Harris crocheted a small stuffed badger toy. The little badger had hung proudly from a loop on Jamie's school bag ever since. She had called the badger “Constance” after the Redwall book character Mr Harris had bought to accompany the toy.

“Hufflepuff seems the house for you then.” Mr Harris said.

Mr Pilchard left shortly after that, bidding everyone a cheery goodbye.

Saturday was a Scout's night so Jamie went upstairs to iron her uniform and polish her shoes. She was still fairly new to the group, it having only begun admitting girls from the start of the year but Jamie loved it, the knot challenges and pioneering and puzzle games. It was one of the few times in her week where Jamie felt like her brain and her body both got a challenge.

Once Jamie's footsteps had retreated up the stairs, Mr Harris turned to his wife and shrugged. “If this will make her happy, Jules, I think we can learn to be happy about it too.”

Mrs Harris nodded “I know Arnie.” She said breathing out a big sigh. “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like some of the analysis on this website about the different houses: http://www.mugglenet.com/2004/07/the-significance-of-house-colors/


	7. Involuntary friendships

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am going to be honest, I got a mighty case of writer's block and ended up writing 6 or 7 fully-fledged chapters that weren't chronological but were from several steps in advance and so ended up having to work backward to this one. Hopefully, I should be posting more regularly after this batch. :)

The days that followed Mr Pilchard and Professor Snape's visit saw a return to the normal routine the household kept.

On Sunday mornings, Mr Harris would sit down at the kitchen table after breakfast with the weeks’ worth of newspapers that he had only been able to skim on the weekdays. He would start by cutting out the crossword puzzle and handing it to Jamie before taking up a highlighter pen and a small pocket notebook in which he would scribble down news he felt was important, muttering grimly as he went about plummeting unemployment levels and the number of companies that were likely to be contacting him for advice on redundancies and employment tribunals.

There was an article in yesterday's paper about the first-ever controlled and substantial production of nuclear fusion energy that Mr Harris poked at, showing Jamie.

“I'm telling you this is where the country is headed in terms of power sources now that the coal mines are all but closed. Want me to cut this out for you to take to school? You can ask your science teacher about it? After all, Hogwarts seems to be pretty big on sciences, might be a handy bit of facts to know.”

Jamie smiled and nodded absently, chewing on the end of her pencil as she focused on her crossword. She doubted very much that anyone at Hogwarts could tell her anything at all about physics subjects. That thought made her pause as she considered: did everyone in the magical world have a maximum of a year 6 understanding of science? That was mildly concerning. She focussed back on her crossword, determined to finish all the crosswords before Mr Harris was done reading the week's newspapers. It was a bit of a game for them.

“One left and I don't know the answer,” said Jamie.

Mr Harris licked a finger before turning the page of his paper. He was very nearly at the end and everyone knew he barely skimmed the sports sections. He smirked. “Hmm, go on then?” he asked, his eyes not leaving the paper, but they crinkled a bit with mirth.

Jamie huffed and wrinkled her nose in frustration for needing a clue but read out “9 letters, the clue is: paper money security feature.”

Mr Harris squinted at the roof as though thinking hard before chuckling and turning another page of his paper. Jamie groaned and flopped her head to the table with a thud. This caused Mr Harris to laugh louder before he put down his paper and reached for his wallet, pulling out a £5 note.

“I've still got 3 pages before sports, put your investigative skills to the test,” he said, sliding the note over to her.

Jamie picked it up. She scratched the paper a bit, no paper cuts so no physical security feature.

Tentatively she raised the note to her nose for a sniff before scrunching up her face, it smelled like sweat and countless people but “smell” or “off-putting” would not fit the crossword. It was as she was lowering the note that she noticed an image that would appear and disappear as it caught the light, the queen's face. It was like magic, but no, she remembered the Scout leaders talking about this a few weeks back when they made lemon juice invisible ink.

Her eyes bugged out, she counted letters on her finger before breaking into a grin. Mr Harris had only just turned to the sports pages.

“Watermark!” She cried, scribbling it in finally.

Mr Harris closed his paper. “Yup, well done! I can't believe your first instinct was to sniff it though. You're like a bloodhound” he joked.

Jamie feigned an affronted air. “I'll have you know,” she replied haughtily, “that Jill Davis in my class says her dad told her that Canadian money has a little picture of a maple leaf and that if you scratch it, it smells like syrup!”

“Hmm, that sounds like Jill Davis is a fibbing fibber who fibs,” said Mr Harris. (However, the next time he visited Canada on business, he realised he owed Jill Davis an apology.)

The rest of the day was spent in quiet contentment. Mrs Harris listened to Jamie's assigned aloud reading, correcting pronunciations and having her write down any word she didn't know. Jamie hated spelling, English was confusing and nonsensical, not at all like German, but she supposed that if Hogwarts didn't teach English, she would need to focus on it now before she lost marks and house points in her assignments for bad spelling.

MMr Harris attempted to make sense of some of the tougher maths questions Jamie had to work on muttering how back when he was at school he never had to worry about exams in primary school and what was the world coming to.

That evening, the family sat together in the living room playing Cluedo, it was Jamie's favourite game and the adults were convinced she must somehow be psychic with how quickly she would guess the correct suspect, weapon, and room and win. The last of the Bonfire night fireworks were being let off outside, drowned out by the radio, their games interrupted by frequent interludes of singing along to classic hits.

~ ~ ~

On Monday morning after the visit, Jamie woke up early. She wanted to break in her birthday running shoes before using them at any of her afternoon activities. They lived in a small village and so the Harrises allowed Jamie to go for short solitary runs once a week providing she kept to the one short route, down the lane, past the vets and down through the field to the edge of the wood and then along the treeline back up to their road.

Jamie loved the route, a little brook churned just within the treeline that bordered her path. The morning was cool and crisp, and the morning frost glinted on the field. Pixies called to her from the hedgerows, chirping about the cool weather and the last harvests of acorns. Jamie sat under her favourite tree, breathing hard and taking in the first rays of morning light. The water sprites skipped over to greet her and began chirping in their watery tones about the goings-on of the woods beyond. Some local children had apparently kicked up a mushroom circle, fortunately after Samhain had passed, but it had caused great difficulty with getting through from the Other Realm when a unicorn had foaled and had difficulties. Some of the pixies had begun to chase each other while the sprites had seated themselves on her shoulders, twisting strands of her hair into little braided knots.

Jamie didn't know why the little Fae creatures seemed so at ease around her, perhaps they were that way with all witches and wizards, but she didn't remember the creatures being at ease around her mother. She reached into her backpack to bring out a small carton of milk she always brought on these morning runs, ripping the top off and collecting up as many acorn caps to distribute it. There was nothing quite like milk or cream for Fae creatures.

The unicorn foal seemed to have been born after many hours. The local area didn't host many magical creatures, but a small clan of centaurs did watch over the area. A pixie named Flax said the chief centaur saw the birth as an omen of a long struggle to come, but then Flax turned back to his milk.

The Fae seemed happy enough to share the news with her, but centaurs were notorious for keeping their secrets to themselves. Jamie told them all of her acceptance to Hogwarts and everyone seemed delighted, excitedly proclaiming the names of friends and relatives who lived in the forest near the school.

Jamie sipped at the last dregs of the milk carton before making her farewells, she took the empty carton to the nearest bin before waving goodbye, the little creatures heading off back to their morning tasks. Jamie hopped on the spot to warm up again before taking off at a sprint, her new shoes bending nicely and springing each foot forward.

~ ~ ~ 

As December began creeping closer, the teachers of Jamie's school began giving out more homework, more mentions of getting ready for the May exams were made than ever before. But it wasn't all doom and gloom. December would also mean the school Christmas pantomime, and this year it was rumoured that their drama teacher Mr Anderson (although he did try to get everyone to call him “Rob”) had outdone himself, with a script for Jack and the Beanstalk, this one with two villains, the traditional giant and an evil witch to contend with the good witch. It seemed straight out of The Wizard of Oz but twice as nutty, which could only mean fun.

Jamie was quite pleased when she was appointed the role of the evil witch. She would get to paint all of her visible skin bright green and cackle menacingly (a skill which she worked on vehemently with the Harrises, both of whom had their own take on evil witch laughter. They ran through lines every night while cooking dinner until Jamie was convinced that should Nicole, who had been appointed the good witch end up ill on the night of the show, that Mr Harris could no doubt take to the stage with a pink glittery dress and star ended wand and all the enthusiasm the role entailed.

What she did not expect, however, was that Nicole, Sarah and Jessica and even Jessica's brother Louis, had seemingly decided that, like it or not, Jamie would now have friends. They all had roles in the play, so interaction was unavoidable, but it was in the small moments away from the practice sessions that made the lonely part of Jamie desperately happy while also incredibly afraid.

It was how Sarah delighted in teaming up with Jamie to beat the boys at marbles or how Nicole would jump into a round of kickball and pass the ball straight to Jamie. It was really quite a shock one wet break time when all three girls sat down at Jamie's table in the Library and declared it perfect for hiding, away from the noise and bustle.

Jessica had even grabbed one of Jamie's small hands and gasped delightedly when she found that none of the nails were painted. She had then proceeded to pull out a vast assortment of glittery varnishes to begin applying and all the while Jamie sat, unable to escape and honestly, not really wanting to.

By the night of the school play they were giggling and chasing one another backstage, the “witches” swooshing their wands. “Bam! You're a frog now!” leading to cast members of all ages hopping around the dressing room as disgruntled parents who had volunteered to do face make up, chasing down students and declaring all frogs clear of enchantment. They confiscated the wands until curtain-call for good measure.

Nicole called Jamie over to the edge of the curtain to point out how all of their parents had sat together. The Harrises there too, enthusiastically prepping cameras with the rest of them. And even if the Giant (a 9-year-old on bucket stilts) forgot a line and nearly cried, and even when the beanstalk fell over. There was a row of year 6 parents sat grinning broadly, never prouder.

Christmas was a small affair that year with only Mr Harrises ancient great aunt, who liked to tell the same three stories on repeat until enough eggnog was in her, at which point her stories would get far more interesting. Inevitably Mrs Harris would laughingly clap her hands over Jamie's ears and direct her to bed, but all in all, it was warm and happy, and Jamie would fall asleep to the grown-ups slurring Christmas carols.

~ ~ ~ 

January came and went in a flurry and before Jamie even realised where the year had gone, it was April and the gang of friends Jamie had involuntarily acquired sat through many a lunchtime in the library studying for the upcoming exams. Six tests in all, three maths and three English and a good few quizzes from other subjects stood between them and the freedom of the summer. Jamie liked Maths, it was just a bunch of puzzles ready to be solved, while Spelling was revolting. Every spelling rule was only true until it wasn't and almost nothing was written how it sounded.

Sarah was the best reader of the group and prided herself on randomised spelling quizzes in hallways, lunch queues, and the library. Noting down any corrections as though it were her job. No points for guessing she wanted to grow up to be a teacher.

Jessica hated maths until Jamie found ways of asking the algebra questions in terms of numbers of puppies or kittens at which point her predicted grade skyrocketed, while Nicole just liked a challenge and seemed to have decided Jamie’s was the score to beat.

And with every pop quiz score smirk or margined doodle of a cat or spelling glossary, Jamie realised she would miss them, her friends.


	8. Diagon Alley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit of a long one but who doesn't love a good shopping spree.  
> I've had a preliminary reader asking about why Snape isn't quite as "Snape-like" as he appears in the books and really the answer is two-fold. Firstly, the books are told from Harry's perspective and we all know that from the second Harry first sees and interacts with Snape it is extraordinarily negative because of Harry's parentage. We also know, however, that Snape favours Slytherin students so I figure at the very least, in these early interactions before Jamie is sorted and while she isn't in any way a pain in his side, he's going to be less obnoxious and vile. Fear not, however, he is still the same Snape we all wonder how to feel about. Besides, Snape had just spent a good month not having to deal with any students at all. Call it a good mood :P

20 July 1992, 9:30 am

It had taken a little bit of a workaround to ensure that whenever the Harrises thought they had cleared their schedules for the 20th of July that some other work-related fiasco would crop up and be entirely unavoidable. Mr Pilchard was really rather proud of the number of strings he had kept a hold of in order to get everything sorted. Jamie, on the other hand, felt rather guilty. Mr and Mrs Harris kept on apologising that they would not be able to come with for the big shop. Jamie kept promising that they would only buy the things that were obtainable from odd locations and needed Mr Snape's guidance for and that they could all do the normal stationary run the following weekend when things were quieter at work. 

With final muttered apologies to Jamie and Mr Pilchard, everyone piled outside the house with the Harrises piling into their car for work and Mr Pilchard and Jamie getting in his car.

“Mr Snape has owled me to say that he will meet us there, should we need his assistance he will be collecting the school's supplies for the next term and then will wait in the Leaky Cauldron until 3:30 when he will leave for Hogwarts.”

Jamie nodded, she had made a list of her most pressing questions and hoped to keep to them and little else given the Professor's low patience for questions.

They drove only to the outskirts of greater London where they could catch the Tube into the city centre as Mr Pilchard explained driving in was a nightmare at the best of times let alone trying to find parking anywhere near the Leaky Cauldron.

While Mr Pilchard was more familiar than most wizards with muggle transport and money, he did stand back and allow Jamie to take the lead, she had been into London quite often with the Harrises and knew British money far better than Mr Pilchard who spent his life travelling in different countries.

The hot July day made the Tube feel sticky with humidity and Jamie squirmed away from sweaty strangers' elbows and tried to avoid people's rucksacks as they moved around.

When they eventually came to their stop it was with relief that they both stepped out into the light breeze. It was a shopping district and so wasn't too busy this time of morning on a weekday, but Mrs Harris always said London is never not busy. Small groups of tourists bustled around examining shops, the street awash in the ebb and flow of a hundred different languages and soon they were at the entrance to the old pub, the tourists kept walking.

The inside of the pub was dark, and it took a moment for Jamie's eyes to adjust after the glorious sunshine outside. There was almost no one there, the barkeeper wiped down the old stained bar top and a few wizards sat in a corner nursing drinks the day was too early for, they looked like they never really left that spot, the seats moulded to them as though from decades of faithful sitting.

The old fireplace near the bar burst with green floo flames and out stepped Professor Snape, who dusted himself off before saying “Good, you are on time.” before walking straight for the back door of the pub.

Mr Pilchard shared a dry smile with Jamie before nodding his head for them to follow.

Diagon Alley was basking in the summer sunshine, as much as a street had any capacity at all to bask, the cobblestones glinted, polished smooth from the wear of centuries of feet. Vendors had pushed much of their wares out into the open and thrown open their shop doors as if trying to welcome the weather indoors.

Professor Snape stopped and looked at them. “I'd imagine you are capable of seeing to yourselves. I'll be in the Apothecary dealing with a large order. Do you have any questions?”

Mr Pilchard kept quiet; Jamie gulped. “Umm... Yes, sir,” she said.

Snape sighed, exasperated. “What is it?”

Jamie resisted the urge to pull out her list but decided it was better to ask at least a few now and save the rest for later.

“I noticed the equipment list says to get a pewter cauldron, I was wondering if wizarding society followed the European muggle safety laws regarding pewter no longer containing lead?” Jamie said, trying to speak slowly and clearly so that she would not second guess herself. She only knew about the law because Mr Harris had had a consultation case with a jewellery store a few months back.

Snape raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting the question. “Yes, a law came into force just before I started school. Now the only way you are likely to poison yourself is by making stupid mistakes in potions.”

He seemed in a fairly good mood talking about potions, and the concept of poisoned inept students seemed to cheer him right up so Jamie risked another question.

“Are the different cauldron materials to do with temperature control, quality of potion or do they give certain properties to specific potions?” Jamie said, looking at the stack of cauldrons at the nearby shop and thinking about a fun science lesson near the end of term with reactive metals. The cauldrons were all different sizes, some gold, others silver, some collapsible, some tiny, others huge.

Again, Snape seemed surprised by the question and... while not pleased, definitely happy enough that she wasn't asking anything that he might see as frivolous. He thought for a moment before answering.

“It's complicated. Some potions require specific cauldrons, veritaserum, for example, has to be brewed in silver. Typically, potions relating to the moon or lunar magic require silver, potions to do with the sun and growth require gold to be of the purest quality. All but the most complicated can be brewed in pewter, the quality will be abysmal by trade standards but suitable enough to determine correct techniques were used. The platinum ones are gimmicks for people with too much money and not enough sense. At NEWT level, I recommend that students who are looking to join potioning careers begin learning with gold and silver-lined cauldrons. Is that all?”

Jamie sensed his patience beginning to wane and so nodded quickly. “Yes, sir.”

Professor Snape nodded curtly before turning on his heel and heading for the Apothecary.

“Well,” said Mr Pilchard. “I reckon we should head for the bank first and then see about getting you a trunk.”

When they reached the snow-white, near Grecian style bank they were greeted by a goblin in red and gold uniform who bowed them through the burnished bronze doors. A light shiver passed over Jamie. Goblin magic - her mother had explained it to her once years before, the doors kept the entirety of Gringotts a standard, uniform temperature that was pleasurable for goblins and just slightly chilly for humans.

The second set of doors were silver and were opened by a pair of goblins. Jamie smiled and bobbed her head in thanks. The pair did not react but to Jamie, manners were manners.

In the vast marble hall of the bank, Jamie scanned the high counter for a teller who was free. Mr Pilchard was about to head on over to the counter when Jamie grabbed his arm to stop him.

“They are all busy at the moment, we need to wait,” she said emphatically.

“They're always busy, they're goblins, you just go up to the counter and one of them will stop what he's doing to see to you and then get back to what he was doing.” Mr Pilchard whispered back.

But Jamie stood firm. “We have to wait! It's polite.”

Mr Pilchard seemed to find this amusing but held his hands up placatingly and stood aside with a look that said he thought they were going to wait forever.

Jamie took a moment to find her key and Hogwarts equipment lists, an addendum had been sent out a week earlier listing a whole range of new books all by the same author.

There was a thin gold line that sat a few meters from the counter. Checking she had everything in order so as to not waste the goblin's time, she stepped up to the gold line and waited. As soon as her foot stepped on the line she noticed a few goblins look up and upon seeing she was not going to step forward and demand attention, the ones involved in delicate weighing or deep in calculations looked back to their work while glances passed along the line of goblins involved in counting before one nodded, wordless agreement having been reached. The goblin in question made a note on the ledger in front of him before sitting up and signalling her forward.

“Good morning sir, thank you for seeing me,” said Jamie.

The goblin bowed his head slightly before saying “Thank you for waiting. What business have you today?”

Jamie placed her key on the top of the counter. “I would like to make a withdrawal from vault 87462, please and was wondering if you could advise me on a financial matter.”

The goblin nodded for her to continue.

“I am staying with muggles who are temporary guardians and so cannot know about magic, so I was hoping to procure at least two years worth of school equipment for Hogwarts. Could you give me an evaluation of how much I will need to withdraw?”

“You have your equipment list?” he asked.

Jamie handed it to him. “There has been an addendum due to a new teacher for this year, but I have been assured it is not usually as many books.”

The goblin nodded and adjusted a monocle as he gazed at the list in the exact same manner as a goblin, further along, was looking at precious gems to value. He made a few scribbled notes on the list. “Comes to just under 500 Galleons if you get everything new for this and next year, not including broomsticks or any other extras,” he said nodding to himself.

“Thank you very much,” said James, taking back the equipment list.

“Kargrot!” The goblin called, signalling a new goblin to come forward. The counter goblin handed Jamie's key to Kargrot. “Vault 87462 please,” he said indicating Jamie. The goblins nodded to one another.

“This way, please,” said Kargrot.

Jamie followed him through the golden archways on the other side of the room, signalling for Mr Pilchard, who was currently looking somewhat puzzled by the interaction he had just witnessed, to follow.

The archways led to a line of sturdy wooden doors, one of which Kargrot held open for them. Jamie thanked him and walked into the dimly lit stone passageway beyond, behind her she heard a still confused sounding Mr Pilchard murmur “Umm... yes... thank you.” before following her. Jamie smiled at him while Kargrot summoned a cart.

The cart hurtled and turned down the endless maze of passageways, the air growing colder and colder the further downwards they travelled. Jamie closed her eyes, revelling in the swift breeze, feeling the lights change colour behind her eyelids from blue to green to red and back to the torchlight orange before finally the cart slowed to a stop and she opened her eyes.

Kargrot unlocked the door before them and Jamie got out. Mr Pilchard stood awkwardly in the cart.

“Shall I wait here or come in with you?” he asked. Jamie shrugged non-committedly and entered.

It was exactly as she remembered it from the last time she had visited with her mother, everything had been moved by the goblins from Germany immediately on receipt of the notice of her mother's death to a vault of exactly equal size and proportions. And for a moment it hit Jamie again that it all being here, it all being hers, was another reminder that she was alone.

Her mother and grandmother had been well known by the goblins of Gringotts for their meticulous record keeping and neat vaults. No piles of possessions or gold lay here. Instead, the left-hand side of the vault held roller archive shelving units, the type that had you turn a wheel to open a partition. At the end of each shelf unit was a clipboard attached holding onto the inventory documents for the unit. Deeds, ancestry records and rare books were kept here.

The wall with the door in it held mounted wands and portraits from ancient, venerated, long passed ancestors. Traditionally, each ancestor would have a second portrait in the family’s main ancestral home and could go report any strange dealings in the vault, but the old ancestral house had burnt down a few generations back, likely by arsonist enemies of one of the many Auror’s who made up the family. These were now the only surviving portraits and most of the occupants sat snoozing boredly.

Along the back wall of the vault was a mechanism that Jamie knew existed in no other vault in the world, for it was her great grandfather's own invention.

Galleons were stacked along the wall of the device in blocks of ten columns, held up by thin glass spirals wrapping around each stack reaching floor to ceiling. On the side of each rack of them were two levers. The first lever would manoeuvre up and down to lock off a number of rows, and the second pulled the selected rows forward into a dispensing tray. In this way, a person could collect up exact numbers of coins in multiples of ten. There was another column for sickles in rows of 17, and another for knuts in rows of 29. Lastly, stood a large glass vat with three pipes for deposits of coins which would suck the coins up to the top of the appropriate spiral. On the vat was a plaque that was enchanted to keep track of the total amount in the vault.

Kargrot peered in through the doorway and whistled. “You can't imagine how envious the goblin king was when that was patented.”

Jamie laughed. “We could always team up and charge a premium for vaults that use them.”

Kargrot grinned wickedly, all of his sharp teeth showing. “I might just tell him that at the next Order of Occurrences.”

“It would certainly be an honour if you did,” she said.

Jamie cast her gaze at the right-hand wall. Despite needing Galleons for equipment, it was this part of the vault which was most likely to hold something useful, after all, her mother had always told her that the family's wealth lay not in Galleons but in knowledge.

Shelves lined the wall, the top shelves hosting generations worth of old Hogwarts and Beauxbatons textbooks and pressed folders of parchment notes.

Below these sat small and medium-sized chests and display cases hosting everything from family heirlooms to inventions and charmed objects, carefully kept behind a blood bound lock or enchanted glass.

Below these were boxes upon boxes of rare seed species sitting besides jars of ingredients, dried, pickled or under stasis charms and even a few taxidermied specimens.  
A series of Bestiaries, dating back to Norman times rested beside this.  
And finally, on the floor below sat three large chests. 

The trunk furthest from the door was wrought of finest goblin silver and contained hundreds of vials of family memories added to with every generation, even her mother had deposited a few. The roof of the trunk had a divet which would act as a Pensieve when the contents of a vial were poured into it.

The central trunk was old and oblong with black leather and silver fastenings. This contained the collections from passed Auror’s in the family. Jamie knew that this contained weapons in the bottom layer. Knives of silver, gold and iron, throwing daggers and a twin pair of very finely wrought swords narrow enough to slip through tiny gaps in defences and made from a type metal not even Jamie's mother had recognised. They seemed silver but glowed faintly. Also, in there were sealed pots of poisons and antidotes. The upper compartment, Jamie knew, contained armour. Not metal clanking armour but an Auror’s battle garb. Black acromantula silk, which could stretch to fit a large hulking man or a petite woman, secure-able panels of dragonhide, and dragon hide braces for wrists and shins each with hidden wand and weapon holsters.

The final trunk was also the most mundane, and yet it was the prettiest. Oxblood red leather tooled with delicate floral motifs while gold studs margined the borders. It was a school trunk, Jamie's grandmother's first, then passed to her mother. Jamie opened it to find it completely empty but knew there was more to it than what met the eye. Closing the lid again and turning the little gold key in the lock three times clockwise and she could lift the lid to find the hidden magical chamber.

“Mr Pilchard?” Jamie called. He stuck his head around the door. “I think I have a solution for our trunk needs.”

She carefully hauled out her mother's school memory boxes, a few very old chocolate frog cards, and an ink-stained sock, moving them to an empty patch of a shelf.

Mr Pilchard entered the vault and began examining the chest, wand circling to determine what charms were placed on it. “Yes, the enlargement and featherweight charms and the dual compartments seems quite perfect. It also seems able to transfigure down into a briefcase, although we probably won’t need that since the Harrises need to see a bulky trunk, but useful all-the-same.”

Jamie looked to her schoolbook list and then to the shelves above her. “We can also cross off a few books from here as well.” She pointed to the schoolbooks which included Standard book of Spells grade 1 to 7, and all the other books on the list besides the newly added “Lockhart works”.

“So we can, do you want just the ones on your list or all of them since the trunk expands?” he asked, reaching for the top shelves.

“Hmmm... all of them, I think, and the filed notes, might as well since I don't know when next I can come to Gringotts.”

While Mr Pilchard loaded up the magical compartment with books, Jamie busied herself collecting three sacks of Galleons for future use, one for the rest of her equipment, which she put in her rucksack pocket and one with a mixture of sickles and knuts for emergency change.

She then added to the trunk the three volumes of bestiaries, tucking them in nicely before going over to the roller shelves to examine the rare collections books. She picked out "Cultures and Customs of the Wild Magical World" and added it to the collection.

Loading the trunk into the Gringotts cart was another matter but eventually, they settled in with Jamie sat atop it cross-legged, her hair blowing backwards in the breeze.

~ ~ ~

“Righto, that's almost everything now. Just potion things and then your wand” said Mr Pilchard.

Robes had been placed in the muggle-safe compartment since the majority looked almost identical to a normal school uniform barring the outer robes which could be presented as “ceremonial”. 

They had just left Flourish and Blotts, the remaining textbooks joining the cauldron, vials, telescope, scales, parchment, inkwells and quills in the enchanted compartment and despite the featherweight charm, the trunk was beginning to feel a little heavy. 

The Apothecary, like the Leaky Cauldron, was the sort of place which sat in darkness even on the sunniest of days, but all of the jars and barrels of curious specimens were more than enough to make up for the gloomy atmosphere.

At the front counter stood a rather short wizard with straggly ginger hair and bloodshot brown eyes, he was talking rather animatedly to the shopkeeper when Jamie and Mr Pilchard entered. The shopkeeper looked up in greeting.

“How can I help you folks?” he asked.

“- I'm telling you Mulpepper, you are missing out on a real deal here!” interrupted the short and, now that he was closer, it could be noticed, decidedly grubby other wizard.

“Shut it, Dung. You know paying customers come before your sales pitches.” replied the shopkeeper.

The other wizard sighed dramatically in acquiescence and the shopkeeper again nodded at Jamie.

“Ummm... I need a set of standard first-year Hogwarts potion ingredients,” replied Jamie.

The shopkeeper nodded and began collecting up packages, calling back as he went. “Bit early for Hogwarts shopping ain't it? Most of them don't start turning up for another week or so.” 

Jamie shrugged. “Wanted to avoid the crowds,” she said.

The shopkeeper made a noise of understanding, continuing to collect and package items. “You just missed one of your new professors doing the big shop, though, he probably will be back soon given as he's carting things from here to the floo in The Leaky so has to do stages.”

Jamie nodded at this. “Yes, Professor Snape said he would be busy here until this afternoon.”

“Ah, smart one you, getting to know the professors before term starts. Mind how you go with Snape though, none too fond of know-it-alls or idiots, which in his opinion is the two categories children fall into.” whispered the shopkeeper, giving a conspiratorial wink.

“Oh yes, good ol' Snapey!” replied the grubby wizard, still looking petulant for being ignored. “He'd buy my Boomslang skin if he were here!” he said, indicating the jars he had lined up on the counter. “Knows about quality, he does.”

Jamie peered at the jars. “Boomslang skin?” she inquired.

“Mhm,” replied the trader, “Good for Polyjuice and Beautification potions. Difficult to come by and worth a pretty penny. It means tree snake in some language or other, I forget which.”

Jamie knew a fair deal about Boomslang skin. Being constantly on the move her whole childhood did mean the fairly regular creation and use of Polyjuice potion and her mother had gotten her to help with preparations of ingredients from a young age.

The shopkeeper handed Mr Pilchard a few packages to begin packing into Jamie's trunk. The girl peered closer at the jars.

“But these aren't Boomslange,” she said, pronouncing the word correctly and in pluralised form.

The shopkeeper looked up and quirked an eyebrow. “Know something about snake recognition, kid?” he asked.

The grubby wizard huffed “Nonsense. Of course, they are. I know my business!”

The shopkeeper gave a smirk. “Go on then kid, you tell me if any of these are any good.”

Jamie stepped closer to the counter and peered at the jars one by one. “The boomslang is the only species in its genus.” She quoted, remembering her biology lessons on basic taxonomy. She had done an oral presentation on this very snake. “There is a fair amount of colour variation with males being light green and black and females being occasionally brown, but they all have very large eyes and an egg-shaped head.”

She pulled forward six of the ten jars and shuffled them, so they sat with four brown ones to the right and two green ones to the left. She indicated the green ones. “These don't have any blackness to the scales and have small eyes and a weird point on its nose, and these,” she indicated the brown ones, “have yellow splotches and their heads are too big. Where did you find them?” she asked, turning to the grubby trader who was just now looking quite desperately at the exit.

“Friend of a friend found them. Up a tree.” the wizard said evasively. “Tree Snake. Like I said.”

“Boomslange are a specific type of arboreal snake,” said Jamie. “Not just any snake found in a tree.”

The little man scrunched his face up in anger, but both the shopkeeper and Mr Pilchard stepped forward. “Let the girl finish, Dung.” said the shopkeeper.

Jamie pushed the rejected jars to the side to examine the final four. She scrunched up her face. These all look like Boomslange, but these two here,” she pointed “are juveniles. Much smaller than they should be. Won't be easy following a recipe that expects you to use one that typically measures around four foot.”

“But they are still, high-quality products like I said” replied the grubby trader, clapping Jamie on the back.

The shopkeeper snorted, “I'll take the two bigger ones. Snape was wanting some for his stockroom, anyways. You can take the rest and foist them onto my competitors.” he said with a chuckle.

The grubby trader scooped up the other jars into his arm, grinning broadly. “Pleasure doing business with you, Mulpepper. I'll take payment in my usual way a week Sunday, yeah?"

“Yeah, yeah, now get your grime out of my shop, Dung.” The shopkeeper laughed, shaking his head in exasperation.

When the wizard was finally gone, the shopkeeper turned his eyes back to Jamie and held out a hand. “Mordecai Mulpepper, by the way. And that lump of body odour was Mundungus Fletcher. Mark my words, kid. Watch your pockets around him. He's an alright bloke but he's got magpie eyes and a niffler nose. But I owe you thanks, Professor Snape's likely to get as close to joyous as he ever gets when he sees these. Your stuff is on the house.”

“Thank you,” said Jamie, already subtly feeling her pockets to make sure nothing was amiss.

“Oh, and take this as well,” said Mordecai, handing her a small booklet. “It's an order sheet book so you can owl product numbers and quantities to me if you need to order anything else.” Jamie nodded, tucking the card into her pocket, she and Mr Pilchard nodded their thanks once again before heading out.

“Just the wand then.” said Mr Pilchard, “and then, I think an ice cream, while we wait for Professor Snape in case you have any more questions before we head home.”

~ ~ ~

Olivander's was a narrow little shop that seemed as firmly a part of Diagon Alley as the old cobblestones themselves. Other shops looked as though they came and went, the occupants changing now and then, fresh coats of paint straight over the old, but Olivander's sat like a grandfather in his favourite chair, unmoved by the hustle and bustle around it. The roof shingles sagged like wrinkles and as Jamie got closer it seemed as though the very mortar of the place oozed with magic.

“I'll wait out here,” said Mr Pilchard. “The place is far too small for me and the trunk.”

JJamie nodded and entered, a light bell sounding within the shop. The place seemed thick with magic, like a humid summer air in the lungs, but cool in temperature.

Jamie could see stacks of narrow boxes lining the walls even of the entrance to the shop, these stretched back to a high square desk counter with an old accounts journal sat atop it. Behind that were shelves lining the walls, also stacked with boxes, causing the passageway down the centre to be very narrow indeed. At the end of the passageway, Jamie caught a glimpse of silvery-white hair before spotting the old man the hair belonged to. 

“Good afternoon, sir,” said Jamie.

The man smiled broadly, “Good afternoon to you too,” he said coming forwards on near-silent feet. “Do you know, I can count on one hand the number of customers I have ever served to have spotted me first before I have startled them. I suppose I must blend in with the shelving.”

Jamie chuckled, “You probably just catch them while they are looking around.”

“Hmmm or perhaps you are particularly observant.” He said, stopping and pulling a thin box from a shelf before coming to stop before Jamie, looking her up and down with pale, gleaming eyes which seemed to see more than just the visual plane. “Your parents aren’t here?” He asked, seeming to have finally noticed the absence of anyone else in the shop.

Jamie felt a prickle of fear tingle down her spine. “No, my mother is dead. My guardians are muggles and Mr Pilchard from the Ministry said he would wait outside with the trunk.”

Mr Olivander's eyes turned sad “I'm very sorry to hear that... Well then, shall we make a start on finding a wand for you?”

Jamie nodded, relaxing a little. “Yes, sir.”

He pulled a small measuring tape from his pocket. “Which is your wand arm?”

Jamie held out her left arm.

“A leftie like myself, I see. Interesting.” He measured from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round her head. “Also, rather small for your age. Was your mother small as well?”

“About 5”2 I think,” said Jamie.

Mr Olivander nodded, rolling the tape up and replacing it in his pocket before picking up the wand box he had taken from the shelves upon deciding Jamie was observant.

“Fir, Unicorn core, eleven and a half inches. Strong and surprisingly springy.” He said holding it out to her. “Give it a bit of a wave.”

Jamie took hold of the wand. It felt enormous and clumsy in her small hand and seemed to wobble in the air as she swooped it in a wafting arch.

Mr Olivander took the wand back, muttering to himself as he began searching for more boxes.

“Rowan, 7 inches, Unicorn. Unyielding.” He said, but she had no sooner touched the handle before he had shaken his head and handed her another. “Pine, 9 inches, dragon heartstring, Firm but quite pliant”

Jamie gave it a wave, but nothing happened. She put it down on the pile and bit her lip while Mr Olivander began looking though boxes and muttering “Aspen, hmmm no that's not right.”

A loud pop interrupted his musings and there on top of the counter, now stood a house-elf holding a brown paper wrapped box.

“Package for you, Mr Olivander, sir.” she squeaked before noticing Jamie. “Oh! Ceely is sorry for interrupting sir with a customer!”

“It's alright, Ceely,” replied Mr Olivander, accepting the package. “Please wait for a moment, I have your master's payment in the back room.”

The little elf nodded and began picking at her cotton dress while looking about with wide eyes.

“What happened to your hands?” asked Jamie, stepping forwards. The little elf's hands were covered in little fabric bandages on almost every finger.

The elf seemed startled but hastened to reassure. “Ceely is working for master Stems in packaging and deliveries.” she said, holding up her little hands “They be no more than papercuts.”

“Oh,” replied Jamie “Dittany might help them a bit.”

The elf nodded, “Yes, Ceely will use some dittany when deliveries are done.” The little elf smiled shyly, “Ceely is just clumsy.”

“Nothing clumsy about papercuts,” Jamie said. “They happen to everyone.”

It was then that she noticed Mr Olivander had returned and was watching the interaction between girl and elf.

“Here it is Ceely. Please give your master my regards.” He said, handing her a pouch of coins. The elf nodded enthusiastically before disappearing with another pop.

With one last look at Jamie, Olivander began muttering to himself again “Apple, perhaps,” he said reaching for a box then “no, not quite.” He took down a different box.

“English Oak, ten and a quarter inches, dragon heartstring, strong and resilient.” He handed it to her.

The handle felt warm as her hand enclosed it and a bright shooting of blue and yellow sparks shot out as she swished it in a neat little circle.

“There, we have it at last!” cried Mr Olivander clapping his hands together before replacing the wand in its box. He carried it over to the counter and made some notes. “Your name, by the way, my dear?”

“Oh, it's James Schwarz,” said Jamie.

Mr Olivander looked oddly amused as though privy to an inside joke. “Well Miss Schwarz, that'll be seven galleons, if you please.”

The girl counted out the coins and was putting her new wand box away when her fingers brushed against her practice wand, the stick her mother had found.

“Sir,” she said “Before I go, I was wondering if you could identify a type of wood for me? My mother found this stick when I was very young and had me practice wand motions with it. I'm just curious about what it is.” 

She took the stick out and handed it to him. It was about nine inches long and had little stub marks along it from where her mother had broken off some thorns. The handle was rounded, and the bark was worn off from use, leaving a wood the colour of a milky latte flowing down to where the dark, shiny bark remained. Over the years Jamie had scratched stars and swirls into the bark with a knife and pointed the end so that it looked more like her mother's real wand.

Mr Olivander's eyes widened a little as he looked it over. “It's blackthorn.” He said looking from the wand to the girl curiously. “Would you mind showing me the wand motions you practised with this?”

Jamie took it back nervously and began the series of motions, murmuring the words to herself “protego, expelliarmus, stupify, incarcerous”. 

“Interesting,” said Mr Olivander. “Very, very interesting.

At the girl's curious look, he explained. “A wand without a core cannot harness magic, it is merely a stick, but I can see magical energies just like you can see light and shadow. This stick wants to assist you, and Blackthorn wands are normally most trying to pair with someone as young as yourself, they tend to need to go through danger or hardship with their owners in order to bond properly and then they become very powerful wands, not nearly suited for someone only just beginning to learn magic. It's as though the wood has already bonded with you but is simply missing a core... I wonder...” He said. 

Hurrying to the back room, he returned with the package Ceely had brought and, opening it at the counter he revealed thin bundles of what looked like spun silver, other bundles of what seemed to be maroon elastic and a few orange-red feathers. He picked up a bundle of the maroon stuff. “Dragon heartstring,” he said by way of explanation. “Just like the core of your oak wand.” He handed a bundle to Jamie. “wrap that around the blackthorn wand for a moment and try the expelliarmus motion again.”

Jamie did as she was told while Mr Olivander took out his own wand and held it in dueller’s stance. His wand did not fly from his hand as Jamie knew should happen with a normal disarming spell, but it did jerk upwards a little.

Mr Olivander's face lit with wonder. “Marvellous. Simply marvellous. I've never seen a thing quite like this before... If I may, could I core it? The process won't take but a few minutes and I won't charge for it, but this is a once in a lifetime opportunity.”

Jamie was rather hesitant about letting go of the wand but eventually conceded after Olivander promised she could watch the process.

In the backroom, he placed the wand on a stand and pressed a very small piece of spiralled metal to the base of it before swooshing his own wand in a spell that set the spiral spinning, boring into the centre of the wand before coming back out the same side. Then, with another swish, the fine piece of dragon heartstring slithered into the tiny hole before Olivander took up the wand and a small paintbrush of something sticky which he painted over the hole, sealing it.

He handed the newly completed wand to Jamie. It zinged in her hand as though full of electricity. “It will be too powerful for use now. Learn control and balance with the Oak, but this wand will aid you when you need it most.” He said ominously, “It's attuned to your very magical core and will act with force and without hesitation.”

Jamie nodded and put the wand pack in its usual pocket, but it sat differently, it felt alive.

Fortunately, when Jamie exited the shop Mr Pilchard did not ask anything, seeming to know first-hand the strange experience of having a wand first choose you. 

TThey made their way to the ice cream parlour and sat eating their cones while Mr Pilchard applied charms to each of Jamie's main schoolbooks so that they would appear as muggle textbooks, before replacing each in the muggle safe compartment of her trunk.

When they got to the Leaky Cauldron, Mr Pilchard suggested that she stay there and ask any more questions she had for Mr Snape while he took the trunk by Apparation to the car before returning for her.

By the time the Harrises got home from work that evening, Mr Pilchard was long gone, leaving the trunk in Jamie's bedroom. Jamie was fast asleep on the living room couch. It had been a very long day.


	9. Packing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A much shorter chapter than the last.

The last of July and August passed in a blur. The Harrises had decided to work all summer to save their annual leave for Christmas, Easter and next year's summer break, so Jamie was left to her own devices, filling her time reading through her new textbooks and her mother and other relative's first-year school notes and attending all her extracurricular activities in the afternoons. On the weekends Mrs Harris sat sewing in little embroidered name tags onto every clothes item and marking down initials on every item of stationery.

It seemed as though after every time one of the Harrises had been to a shop, they brought back something or other they thought might help for Hogwarts. Some clothes a size or two large in case she had a growth spurt, packs upon packs of exam pad paper, lever arch files, highlighters, coloured pens and pencils, a nice page-a-day diary, a geometry set and mechanical pencil, sketching pencils, two thick sketch paper books with perforated pages, a watercolour and small acrylic set with brushes, pallets and various other art supplies. It seemed almost like they were becoming just as excited as Jamie was. Last of all was a nice fountain pen with a bag of ink refills, a set of several pens that claimed to be super-fast drying and smear-free, perfect for left-handers and a letter-writing stationery set full of envelopes, pretty paper and an awful lot of stamps.

Jamie wished she could tell them about magic, they had spent so much on things that would be absolutely perfect for a muggle boarding school but were of little use at a magical one.

The Friday before the long-awaited train journey arrived and Jamie decided to spend the day repacking her trunk neatly, starting with the magical compartment. Potion ingredients were nestled in boxes lined and stuffed with newspaper to avoid breakages, books for future years were stacked neatly with the most advanced stuff at the bottom and the least, closest to the top. Her telescope, scales, and vials each sat in the velvet-lined cases they came in.

Jamie had pilfered a few old glasses wipes from the many that Mr Harris was always finding and losing, she placed them in the telescope case with a small bottle of lens fluid for cleaning. Her winter cloak and hat held her cauldron secure. She scurried downstairs and into the garage for a spray tin of WD 40 and a scouring sponge and added these in case of rust. Then her magical money, bank key, and her mother's photo. Her dragon-hide gloves and a pair of normal washing up gloves (you never know when they might be needed) were last to go in before she switched to the muggle safe section. She wanted to make sure that the vast majority of her possessions were in before the Harrises got back from work so that the enlargement charm wouldn't be noticeable.

Textbooks, notebooks, and files to the right. Stationary to the centre and clothes to the left with her shoes in shoe boxes and a new pair of wellies. Then winter coats, jumpers, pullovers, hats, scarves and gloves, then the clothes which were too large, followed by normal everyday wear, pyjamas and two of her three sets of school robes and a toiletry bag, then went, a lint roller, a shoe brush, a first aid kit, her boxing gloves from her previous birthday and the small hang up boxing bag from this last Christmas.

A knock interrupted her packing Mrs Harris stood smiling hesitantly at the door holding a shopping bag in each hand. “You seem like you're almost ready to go.” she looked around the room. Jamie never did leave clutter, but the room felt emptier, colder. “I didn't know what the laundry system would be like at Hogwarts so I got a small pop up laundry bag,” she said coming to stand next to Jamie. “Wow, that trunk is bigger than it looks! Is that really everything?”

“Yup. I'm an efficient packer.” said Jamie with a smile, adding the laundry basket with a “Thanks.” 

Mrs Harris smiled in reply, walking aimlessly in the room, running her fingers along the chest of drawers, opening drawers to see if there was anything missing. She was still holding a shopping bag and seemed like she wanted to say something but was unsure how to begin.

“I umm... I'm not sure if your mother ever had this talk with you, but I wouldn't want to send you off to the other side of the country without knowing you knew about it,” she said, reaching into the bag and withdrawing a bulk pack of maxi pads, a pack of reusable cloth pads and a box of tampons. She was blushing a light pink.

“Oh... umm...” Jamie looked hesitantly from the pack to Mrs Harris. “They umm told us a little at school...”

Mrs Harris nodded and sat on the edge of Jamie's bed next to the trunk and opened the packs of sanitary wear, she went about explaining how to use them, how often to change them and never to flush them down the loo. “Oh, and make sure to always keep at least one or two folded up with you at all times just in case. There is sometimes very little warning that it'll start, and I can't even begin to tell you how many friends I made at school just for being prepared when someone got caught short.” She removed the last item from the bag, a square tin pocket-sized case with a little floral design on it and she added two of the wrapped disposable pads into the container before snapping it shut and handing it to Jamie.

Jamie was now rather pink as well and didn't quite know what to do except add the new acquirements to her trunk and the square tin to the pocket of her third set of school robes which were hung up on the wardrobe ready for Sunday. 

The sound of the front door and Mr Harris calling up a greeting broke the silence of the room.

“We're up here,” called Mrs Harris.

“Ah, there you girls are, now I know we said the pens were the last of the stationary, but I had a look in some of your textbooks last night and they seemed near indecipherable. Damn near archaic! So...” From behind his back, he revealed a large stack of year 7 revision guides. Maths, English, Science, History, Geography, Music, Art, computing and German. “You're almost certain to be far cleverer than these books by the end of the year, but we figured you could use the plain, simple English until then.”

Jamie, reached for the books, examining and flicking through them. “Thank you, these are awesome. But I feel bad, you have both spent so much on me with all of this.”

Mr Harris put his arm around his wife. “We wanted to, you are a part of our family and this is important to you. So, it is also important to us. We're going to miss you kid. And don't feel bad, think of it as an early birthday present. You only turn twelve once, you know.”

Jamie nodded, trying to swallow back the salty taste in her mouth. “I'll miss you guys too,” she said, turning to reshuffle things in her trunk for the revision guides in order to hide a sniffle.

“Okay kiddo, dinner should be ready in a few minutes alright? Oven pizzas okay for you?” said Mr Harris.

“Mhmm,” she said, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand and making it look as though she were sweeping her hair away from her eyes and tucking it behind her ears.

It wouldn't be until late on Saturday night as Jamie checked and rechecked that everything was ready that she found that every single page of every revision guide, had a printed-out crossword puzzle tucked into it.


	10. The Train

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *A friend taught me the song. Years ago.  
> ** You speak elvish?!  
> *** And Fae. It is only respectful for my friends.

Sunday 30 August 1992

“Are you sure, you don't want us to see you to the platform? It really isn't any trouble.” Mr Harris hefted Jamie's trunk onto a luggage trolly and then added her rucksack.

“I'll be alright, thanks. There will be loads of other kids getting on too and I'm early so I'll find a good seat.” James replied quickly.

“Ah, teenage ways are beginning, I see it now.” Mr Harris joked. “You just don't want to be embarrassed by us stuffy grown-ups in front of your new friends.

“Heh, sure. Yup, you got me.” James responded, latching onto the excuse. 

She wasn't good at lying and she knew it, it came with the territory of the combination of keeping her distance from other people her own age, and talking to fairies in the Fae tongue that magically bound the speaker to the truth.

“And you have your lunch, dear?” Enquired Mrs Harris.

She was wringing her hands together as though she was at a loss for what exactly to do with herself, being so unneeded. “They will almost certainly have a trolly on the train, but packaged sandwiches are always so dry and the trip to Scotland takes so long.”

“Right here, Mrs Harris.” Jamie patted her rucksack. “two sandwiches, one chicken and salad, and the other, cheese and pickle. I divided them each in half since you said I might want to offer half to a new friend as an ice breaker and made them different in case the new friend is vegetarian, like Mrs Brown from down the road warned about. I also have apple slices and carrot sticks and a chocolate orange. All share appropriate and unlikely to spoil my dinner.” Jamie smiled reassuringly.

“Right...” Mr Harris clapped his hands together and shut the boot of the car. “Well... I suppose you are all set then. Remember to write. I still can't believe they don't have telephones.” He laughed dryly, looking from his still fidgeting wife to the small girl who was bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet and biting her lip.

Mrs Harris looked quickly through the windows of the car, as though trying to triple check nothing had been left behind, a jumper or a book. Before turning back to face the girl, a smile stretched on her lips and her eyes just on the edge of being watery. She stooped forwards quickly placing a kiss on the side of the girl's temple. “Be good, Jamie. Enjoy your time there and don't be afraid to make some wonderful friends.” She retreated then, looking swiftly from the car to the station and back, her mouth working in an odd way to try and reabsorb the excess moisture her eyes were threatening to leak.

Mr Harris placed a large, warm hand on the girl's shoulder, sharing a smirk and a conspiratorial wink. “We'll miss you; you know.” He looked sad for a moment before the look passed. “Go make waves okay kid?”

Jamie looked between her two guardians. She knew she was not the loving and affectionate child they had always wanted, the one she wished she could be for them, but if the worst came to it and obliviations were needed, this would hurt less. Still, she stepped forward and wrapped her skinny arms around Mrs Harris' waist in a hug before withdrawing them just as quickly and repeating the swift action with Mr Harris.

“I'll write as soon as I am there,” she said. Looking at the ground where the briefest flicker of Bast's gold eyes peeked up from the shadows of their feet. “Get home safe,” she said before turning and grabbing hold of her trolly.

It was the first time she had ever hugged either of them. It had been the first time she had ever called the Harrises house “home”. The world began to spin slightly, and nausea was rising in her stomach as she pushed the trolly into the station.

They would be fine, she promised herself, nothing bad was going to happen to them while she was gone. She didn't look back. Didn't see Mrs Harris turn to her husband and wilt into his arms and begin crying in earnest. She didn't see Mr Harris gently pull out the pocket-handkerchief, Jamie had helped him find just that morning, and hand it to his wife. Carefully drawing her towards the open car door. It had been the first time anywhere had been allowed to be considered “home” and not even Bast's gentle headbutts to her ankles could stop the paranoid thoughts that it would not be there when she returned.

Deep breath in. Slow and steady. Deep breath out. 

She focussed on the platform numbers, on the crackling announcements over the speakers. Platform 1, 2, 3, 4, a barely audible staff call on the intercom. Platform 5, 6, 7, 8.

A child dropped her stuffed bear near Jamie, falling from her sleeping grasp while draped over her father's shoulder. Jamie grabbed the bear and left her trolly to tap the man's arm.

“Excuse me, sir, your daughter dropped her bear.”

“Oh, zank you zo much. She loves her bear; you are very kind.” He responded, his German accent was quite refined, possibly southern.

“Bitte Sehr” Jamie responded with a smile, moving back toward her trolly. “Have a good trip.”

The man laughed, distracted by his daughter waking up and reaching frantically for her bear “You as well.” he said. But when he looked up again the girl was already gone. In fact, he could not see her anywhere, it was like she had disappeared.

~ ~ ~ 

The wall between platform 9 and 10 had been open to her, even at 10:15, just as Professor Snape and Mr Pilchard had said it would be.

According to an addendum in “Hogwarts: A History”, one of the books she had discovered amongst her mother's collection, the train was in London at 10:00 sharp every other weekday morning, travelling up the country through multiple magical villages before reaching Hogsmeade. On those days it would partially be used for goods carriages, however, there was always a coach or two for passengers since squibs, pregnant women and the very elderly and frail were unable to Apparate and found the floo system incredibly rough. The alternating days saw the train start at the top of the country making the return journey to London. On Saturdays and Sundays, the train did not run unless it was the start or end of a Hogwarts term.

The platform was almost empty, aside from a few house elves standing atop small step ladders all along the train, wiping down the windows, ridding them of the obstruction of the morning precipitation and London pollution.

A few students, that looked to be 6th and 7th years seemed to have arrived early and already said goodbye to parents or guardians, One sat on the ground of the platform eating an apple, nose buried deep in a muggle novel, spectacles sliding down his nose and his blue and silver scarf sliding off his shoulder unnoticed. Two others sat further along the platform, they looked to be siblings arguing lazily back and forth about something Jamie couldn't quite hear.

Jamie supposed that perhaps boarding calls only came a little later after the elves were done with their cleaning.

She parked her trolly near to the front of the train and sat on the lid of her school trunk, humming absentmindedly as she turned to scratch through her rucksack for her pack of chewing gum and her Cassette tape Walkman she had gotten for Christmas.

Two of the elves who were working closest to her twitched their ears and turned to one another in surprise before stopping and turning to look at Jamie. The one on the left put down its window cloth and clambered down the step ladder before tentatively stopping before the small girl perched on her luggage trolly.

Jamie had just popped a stick of gum in her mouth and was throwing the wrapper back in her bag when she felt eyes staring at her. She turned to face the house elf.

“Hello.” She smiled, before looking down at herself and her trolly “I'm sorry, am I in the way?” She began hastily making to hop off her trunk when the elf frantically shook its head and wafted its hands in a show of the negative.

“Oh, no no Miss is not in the way. Smoggy is just wondering how Miss was humming an elf song, Miss?” The elf looked worried, as though the child might perceive the question as rude.

Jamie laughed, realising she had absently been humming Lake by the Greenest Hill, an elf song about what elfkin believed to be the place a soul went when it died.

“Al ebrath doceri nin i glír. Ennin io.” * She responded. Jamie had specifically used the term “ebrath” the word for a friend and equal rather than any word indicating elvish servitude. The little elf Smoggy looked as though his eyes were about to pop from his small head.

Cin ped- edhelen?!” **The elf squeaked. His friend seemed equally shocked.

Jamie nodded, a tightness growing in her gut, coiling, and uncoiling with nerves. She knew that it was fairly uncommon for witches and wizards to trouble themselves with learning the languages and customs of beings they deemed subservient. Mermish being by far the trickiest, and Fae being bound by truth magic, while Elvish had its multitude of specific levels of respect tied into every noun and sentence structure. However, it was with the usual dread of Jamie realising she was being noticed for being unusual, that she realised just how unheard of her knowledge might be considered in England.

Nevertheless, she refused to feel shame for her views and continued.  
““Andles Fae. Ha na- onlui honourens -o mei ebrathen.”***

As she said this, Bast slithered out of the shadow of the trolly, stretching and shaking out her fur before jumping up to sit in Jamie's lap.

“Meow,” said Bast, as though that explained everything, looking from Jamie to the now completely aghast elf.

The elf paled. “Meog Sidhe,” he whispered almost reverently.

Jamie was getting worried now. This was the first time she had ever seen another living being see Bast and the reaction was unexpected, to say the least. 

The elf had whispered something that seemed to mean cat fairy... but the words also hinted at something darker, at tales of spirits and powerful beings that ruled within the Other-Realm. The world which according to elf myth existed alongside our world.

TTales said that at different times of the year, the magic between the worlds waxed and waned and that it was our world's relativity to the Other that allowed magic to exist here. According to the stories, the magic waxed fullest on Samhain, the night marking the beginning of winter, and waned thinnest at Litha, the summer solstice.

It was why magical plants and creatures flourished and diminished opposite to non-magical plants and animals with centaurs and unicorns foaling in autumn rather than a horse's foaling in spring, magical plants either appeared evergreen or, if invisible to muggles, produced fruit in the dead of winter. It was also why Magical schools, in the Northern Hemisphere, began with an autumn term. It appeared that the Other-realm stretched around our own since the magic of our world was at its thinnest in the Summer. Of course, magical beings could still access their magic, however, it would be difficult for new students to begin learning control and technique when the magic was so far from reach.

Jamie had heard the name “Meog Sidhe” only once before. She had been 5 or 6 years old and was sitting in a meadow making flower crowns instead of gathering the Bugloss and Chamomile flowers for potions like her mother had asked her to. Her mother had been gone out to work and left Jamie in the care of Aster Davidson, a woman in the village who claimed she had been taken by the fairies as a baby some 700 years ago, only to be returned upon turning thirteen, about 50 years ago. She was a witch and claimed that while her magic had been weak at 11, it had become unmanageable by 13 and so the fairies had returned her to her own people to learn magic the human way. 

At the time, Jamie had believed every word, drinking in the wondrous magic and ignoring any scepticism the other villagers or even her own mother had. After all, it was a muggle village and her mother was an adult and adults were boring. But now her stories came to mind.

Aster had called her over to the thick woven blanket she had laid out on the meadow grass, seeing the child's lack of focus on her original task, she had told Jamie stories of the Other-Realm instead.

In those stories Meog Sidhe was a contrary character, in some, it could steal souls, in others, it gave blessings or granted wishes while visiting our world. While in stories set in the Other-Realm, it was a guardian or a guide to strangers of the realm, escorting a hero through enchanted forests and swatting away food which would bind the mortal to the Other-Realm eternally.

Looking at the cat in question now, Jamie contemplated. She had given the cat the name Bast as a bit of a joke after reading a book about Egyptian myths. Bast, the goddess who took the form of a black cat, who guarded and guided Ra the god of the sun every night as he passed through the night and a defender against Apep, the snake-headed god. Now she thought about it, there was also "Alice in Wonderland" with the Cheshire cat who was contrarywise but guided Alice through a dangerous and curious realm, appearing and disappearing back into darkness. Perhaps Lewis Carol wasn't quite as high on drugs as everyone assumed, Jamie mused.

But something stuck in Jamie's mind. Aster had been full of warnings about Meog Sidhe. He is fear of death incarnate. He sees souls, some he chooses to steal, others he protects.

Bast settled on Jamie's lap, getting comfortable and chirping as though Jamie's thoughts amused her. 

“Well...” Thought Jamie, “if this is the Fear of Death incarnate, then it likes having its ears stroked but never its belly and it is quite fond of roast chicken.”

The worried fears that had been swirling in Jamie's mind seemed to lessen and she smirked, looking back down at the frankly terrified looking elf.

“This is Bast,” she said simply, stroking her fingers through the silken midnight black fur as she chirped again.

The elf nodded hesitantly before seeming to shake himself out of his stupor a little.

“Would – would Miss and...” here he paused, paling slightly again. “Would Miss and Bast like to board the train now? Smoggy will help Miss with her trunk.” Smoggy bowed low and Jamie got the distinct impression that the bow was for Bast's benefit.

Bast, seeming entirely non-plussed with having been outed as some kind of terrifying demon creature of dark legend, plucked herself up from Jamie's lap, gracefully licked a paw and wiped it over her face before leaping down to the platform where she strutted straight by Smoggy, sparing him a glance before sauntering on up through the open train door, as though she owned the place. 

Jamie clambered rather gracelessly off her trunk and then off the trolly.

“Umm... sure, I mean, if it's no trouble of course.” She stammered.

Smoggy looked about ready to faint and his window cleaning friend seemed in not much better condition after Bast had entered the first compartment of the carriage and mewed at the window the elf had been cleaning as if to say. “I found our spot, what are you still doing outside?”

Jamie pulled on her rucksack before turning to begin pulling her trunk from the trolly, but Smoggy and his friend seemed to recover themselves and rushed to her aid, taking a handle each and assuring Jamie that she ought to step back, a loud SNAP sounded as they clicked their fingers at the same moment. Another SNAP followed, sounding from within the train. Jamie hurried on board to find the two elves had apparated her trunk onto the luggage shelf she likely would have had no hope of reaching herself. They were bobbing bows at Bast while backing out the door of the compartment and Jamie didn't know whether to laugh or not as she scrambled out of the path of the two retreating elves.   
Once they were clear of Bast's direct line of sight they stood up and looked at Jamie with tentative smiles.

“Thank you so much.” She said emphatically. “I could have never gotten the trunk up there by myself.”

“Is no trouble, Miss!” the other little elf squeaked, her voice high and clear. “Please be having a safe journey, Miss.”

“Dank cin.” ****Jamie said with a smile.

With twin smiles, the two elves bobbed their heads slightly before disappearing with a final SNAP. They did not appear outside on the platform but rather a series of other POPs and SNAPs outside seemed to indicate that the elves were done with their tasks, disappearing to wherever else they needed to be. The clock on the platform wall ticked 10:30 with a musical boom, and she noticed the few other students who had been on the platform were getting up and gathering their belongings to board the train.

Finally placing her headphones over her ears, Jamie pressed play on the mixtape she had put in this morning. Bast curling up in the sunbeam on the bench beside her. Jamie snorted a little laugh at the cat who had almost certainly enjoyed the ego boost the elves had given her. The opening bars to Blue Oyster Cult's “Don't Fear the Reaper” played as Jamie settled in for the wait.

~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *A friend taught me the song. Years ago.  
> ** You speak elvish?!  
> *** And Fae. It is only respectful for my friends.  
> ****Thank you


	11. The Solid Wall

It was getting close to twenty minutes before the train was due to leave when Jamie had the odd feeling like someone was watching her, looking out the window she noticed the platform was abuzz with activity, parents checking their children had all their things, a few younger girls were hugging their mothers tight and looked about ready to cry while the older students said a brief goodbye before getting onboard without a backward glance.

It wasn't until Jamie turned around that she discovered the source of her paranoia. A tall man and a very slim girl stood just outside the compartment, staring at her as though absolutely fascinated by something. Jamie slipped off her headphones and pushed the pause button on her Walkman.

“Hello.” she greeted, smiling tentatively at the odd pair. They both had pale yellow blond hair, the man's whiter than the girl's gold, and somewhat bulging eyes, though the man's were dark while the girl's were the palest blue. There was something ethereal about both of them that had Jamie watching them with almost as much interest as they watched her.

“Marvellous.” The man said, not giving any further indication to what he was referring. 

“Are those to keep the Wrackspurts out?” asked the girl who eagerly strode forward. She, like Jamie, was already in her school robes, though she had accessorised with a bracelet that seemed made out of various seeds and had looped meadow flowers through her earrings. It took a moment for Jamie to realise that the girl was staring at her Walkman, or more specifically, the headphones.

“These?” She asked for clarity.

The other girl nodded and leaned in closer, she didn't seem to have much concept for personal space but she didn't grab or touch so that was alright in Jamie's book.

“I'm not sure what a Wrackspurt is. This is a muggle device. It plays music and these are headphones, they make it so that only the person wearing them hears the music.”

“A Wrackspurt,” said the man coming forward to examine the headphones beside the girl, “Is an invisible, tiny flying creature that occasionally infests ear canals. Symptoms include the person's brain going fuzzy. Though your device may not have been created for the purpose, music is known to release positive feelings which have been known to dispel Wrackspurts.”

Jamie had never heard of the creatures but was open-minded. “Are they a Fae creature?” she asked, genuinely curious.

“It's unknown.” replied the girl, still looking at the headphones. “May I try it, please?” she asked, indicating them.

“Umm... sure I guess.” Jamie stood up and carefully placed the headphones over her ears, gently ensuring they did not disturb the flowers in her earrings. The man watched with the same fascinated expression as Jamie hit the play button on the Walkman. 

The girl seemed delighted and spoke overloud “I can hear music everywhere, can you?” Jamie shook her head smiling at the girl who had begun to sway a little before smiling and removing the headphones. “Wonderful.” She said. “I'm Luna Lovegood, this is my father Xenophillius, may I sit with you?”

Jamie packed up the Walkman and put it back in her rucksack. “Sure, are you in first year too?” she nodded emphatically so that her earrings bobbed. “I'm James Schwarz by the way, although people call me Jamie.”

Xenophillius began hauling his daughter's trunk into the luggage rack before kissing his daughter softly on the head. “I'm going to head off now, Ducky. Will you be alright?”

“Yes, Papa.” The girl smiled.

He was hardly out the door when a woman and her son came by from further up the train. The woman wore a muggle business suit and looked rather frazzled.

“Mikey, there are hardly any spaces left, there will be plenty of time to meet a range of people at the school, but I need to go. Mr Harthill called in about an emergency.” she was saying to him over her shoulder.

“But mum, they're girls” he whisper-hissed back.

The woman took no notice of her son and instead knocked on the door panel. “Excuse me, hi, I'm Susan Cromwell, this is my son, Michael, would you two mind awfully if he joins you here, the train seems very full?” she asked no one in particular while hefting her son's trunk through the compartment door.

Jamie stood up to help the woman and her son lift the case onto the luggage rack, wheezing a “Not at all.”

The woman straightened her blazer. “Thanks a bunch, I've really got to run.” Her son's ears were a bit red and he was looking like he was trying desperately to have no more notice taken of him, but his mother pulled him into a quick hug before fussing his hair back into its neat style. “Be good and study hard!” she said, giving him a little wave as she exited.

The boy remained standing, hands in his pockets, looking awkward.

“Your mum seems very at ease here, for a muggle,” said Luna as though she were remarking on the weather.

The boy blushed scarlet and stuttered. “Erm... Yeah, I s'pose. Dad was a wizard but neither of them told me about it. I figure she knows more about this whole thing than I do.” He seemed slightly bitter about this fact, “I barely know anything and it's going to be so embarrassing.” He planted his face in his hands and took an exasperated breath.

“Nothing embarrassing about it,” said Jamie, “My mum used to say that muggleborns and half and halves make up a good 25% of the school's population, if not more, and we are all starting from the beginning. I'm James, by the way. People call me Jamie. Both my parents were magical, but I've spent the last three years living with muggle foster parents, and while there are a few weird things about magic that some people might know about already, I'm sure you'll pick it up.”

“S'pose.” said Michael, sitting down on the bench.

Jamie looked out the window, the platform was starting to clear a bit but there was a worried looking muggle woman holding onto a trolly while her muggle husband arched his neck to look in windows for space. Jamie had an idea. She knocked on the glass of the window and got the attention of two very small mousy haired boys who were standing next to the woman. Jamie then stood on the seat to open a window and shout down “There's space in here.” The woman seemed to visibly wilt with relief as she hugged the slightly older looking boy who rushed onto the train after his father with the trunk.

The boy dipped under his father's elbow to hold open the door while his father got the trunk positioned. He had a muggle camera around his neck and began talking about a mile a minute from the moment the door was open.

“Thanks a bunch! I thought I was going to have to stand at the entrance all the way to Scotland. I'm Colin, Colin Creevy! This is fantastic, isn't it? Never been on a steam train, let alone a magic one, but then, of course, I've never been on a magic anything, didn't even know I was a magic something until the letter.” He paused for a well-needed breath to go around the compartment eagerly shaking everyone's hand. Michael seemed sufficiently cheered up and was grinning slightly at the other boy's unbridled enthusiasm. Colin didn't even seem to notice when his father ruffled his hair and reminded him to write before smiling gratefully at Jamie and getting off the train to wave with his wife and son from the platform.

Everyone had introduced themselves to Colin who had immediately started asking Luna questions about a magazine she was holding. “The pictures move!” he had exclaimed, “How are they doing that?!” Luna didn't seem to know but began talking to him about various magical creatures and asking about the camera around his neck.

The train whistle blasted a five minutes to departure warning and Jamie heard the door to the compartment next to theirs slam open, expelling a girl with very wild bushy hair who was fretting her hands and muttering “They nearly missed the train! What were they thinking?!” followed by a tall round-faced boy with dirty blond hair. Both jumped to the platform and ran up to a family of redheads who had just arrived who were all frantically trying to load the luggage. Something seemed to be missing because the bushy-haired girl kept looking around frantically which in turn had the rest beginning to fret. The tallest of the red-haired children seemed to be trying to calm everyone down and shepherd everyone and the luggage onto the train while his parents dealt with whatever was missing. A pair of red-haired twins had an arm each around a very small red-haired girl who seemed to be growing frantic. They herded her and the bushy-haired girl onto the train and the two girls went back to the compartment while the boys began piling trunks onto the train.

Quite a commotion was occurring at the platform entrance. People were pounding on the wall and taking running jumps while others tried to clear everyone from the area. It looked... It looked as though the entrance was shut. But that couldn't be right as it was only meant to shut after the train had left.

Michael stood. “Should we go help?” He asked. “Looks like some sort of emergency.”

Colin's eyes grew very wide. “But the train's about to leave.”

Jamie stood too. “There are too many people on the platform as it is, but let's go help those boys get the luggage on the train before something or someone else gets left behind.” Michael nodded and headed straight out. Colin still looked worried. “We don't want to clutter the passageway, so you two stay here and keep our places,” she said before following Michael out.

The twins were piling trunks into the entrance passageway as quickly as they could, along with a loose broomstick, an owl cage and several packs of sandwiches, but the area was all but blocked. 

The oldest boy was still on the platform, trying to calm everyone and direct students back onto the train.

“Michael,” Jamie said, “Can you start pulling this trunk to the compartment next to ours? I'll take this one here.” Then she peered over the stack at the twins. “Train's about to leave, if one of you goes to help your brother with getting everyone else back on and the other helps with the rest of this lot, we should be able to get everything on.”

The round-faced boy and the twins nodded, wheezing a bit. The round-faced boy shoving the empty trollies away from the train before pulling himself up after one of the twins. Michael took up the front of one case with the twin taking up the back handle and the front of another case. The round-faced boy then took the back of that case and the front of a third, while Jamie grabbed the end of that one and the owl cage.

A final warning whistle sounded as they made it to the compartment. The small redheaded girl was biting her lip and staring at the scene outside. The bushy-haired girl, rubbing her back trying to comfort her to little effect. “But what will happen if they get left behind?” The smaller girl wailed. “It will be all my fault, cause I went back for my diary and now Harry's going to get in trouble and Dad will be late for work!” she sobbed in some air as everyone else started pushing and shoving the cases onto the rack.

“Harry and Ron won't be in trouble,” consoled the bushy-haired girl. “Harry's got Hedwig, his owl, they can owl the school and explain.”

With a lurching start, the train took its first chug. The small red-haired girl seemed even more distressed but the other twin and the eldest boy from the platform entered the compartment, tugging the last of the luggage with them.

The eldest boy looked a bit unsure at what to do for his crying sister but patted her shoulder a few times before picking up the handle of the owl cage. “I'm needed up in front with the prefects,” he said before nodding at them and hefting his trunk and cage back out and away towards the front of the train.

“Prat.” muttered one of the twins before sitting down on the other side of his sister and handing her a handkerchief. “It'll be alright Gin, honest.” he rubbed her back soothingly as she blew loudly into the hankie.

The other twin finally finished hefting his trunk and broomstick onto the rack. “Thanks, you lot.” he said, nodding at everyone, really saved our bacon.” He stopped and peered at Jamie and Michael. “You lot first years?” They nodded; introductions were made. The prefect boy who had left was called Percy, the twin who had called Percy a prat was Fred, the other twin was George and the little girl was Ginny. The round-faced boy introduced himself as Neville, he had picked up a large pet toad and was bobbing it around making it look like it was dancing while humming something to try and make Ginny laugh and the bushy-haired girl was introduced as Hermione.

A few other students that looked to be about Hermione and Neville's age stopped by to find out what had happened and so soon enough it was found out that Ron, the youngest of the Weasley boys and Harry, both Hermione's best friends, had been right behind Ginny and her mother when entering the platform but had never gotten to the other side of the wall, even more curious was how the wall seemed completely solid from the other side, something that just wasn't ever supposed to happen.

Eventually, the twins decided to go and find their friends and a few of the other students began to trickle away. Jamie and Michael invited Ginny back to their compartment, but she seemed to prefer to stay with Hermione for the moment, so they said their goodbyes.

When the trolley lady came around, it seemed that everyone barring Luna was curious by the display. Jamie had never had British magical sweets while the two boys had never had any kind of wizarding sweet at all.  
They bought some of everything and between the shared sandwiches they all produced and the cries of wonder and disgust at various Bertie Bots beans, the four found themselves having a wonderful time, trading stories as the light outside began fading to dusk.


	12. The Sorting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a Sea scout, it physically hurt me that the boats over the lake just are like "parked" on the beach and people get in and out while it's landed and then magic pushes them out and stuff like sure "magic and all" but just a little jetty saves my sanity about keels and the sealant material of the boat being ground away or else people getting their shoes and socks wet. Also, I am hinting that with this year group, there are about 60 students in comparison to Harry's year which had 40.
> 
> J.K. Rowling once said she imagined the school had about 600 students which would be 80 students per year group. The idea being that during the rise of Voldemort and especially the year before Harry's birth, perhaps the birth rates decreased and then there was a boom after his defeat but not such a big boom that it was full recovery to normal numbers or greater because celebratory conceptions would only be born 9 months after Voldemort disappeared so April/May and onwards. I am suggesting around 40 students are born August 1980-end of April 1981 and a further 20 were born May 1981 to July 1981 cause let's be honest, people were very excited about Voldemort's "death" and more babies always happen after a war.  
> I have added the full list of 60 names in the endnotes. It was hell to create, honestly.
> 
> Other notes. Nearly Headless Nick is always described in clothes that are quite Elizabethan/Shakespeareanso I decided Hufflepuff's ghost would also be younger than the other two house ghosts who supposedly died during the Founder's lifetimes. For reference, a bliant is a 12th-century tunic type garment made of silk and worn by men in court, it would be very appropriate for the Bloody Baron, unlike whatever, weird stuff they dressed him in in the films. And the Grey Lady is similarly dressed in appropriate high-class 12th-century clothing.  
> I am personally of the opinion that Hogwarts was more a place for people of older ages to learn magic and that younger witches and wizards would be tutored by a wizarding noble family for centuries before the witch hunts and civil war and tensions between Catholics and Protestants of the 16th Century would have perhaps meant that wizarding families needed there to be somewhere safe to send their children to learn magic, this is also the time period where the Statute of Secrecy comes into force and muggles and wizardkind become separate. For me, this is also the only explanation of how a basilisk would be in the plumbing, effectively, the founders as we know them were alive only in the 16th century, setting it up as a school but that wizarding people had been meeting to learn from one another since earlier.
> 
> In case anyone was wondering, I start with Colin Creevey because in the book the Chamber of Secrets Harry and Ron see him go up as the first to be sorted. This year group just has no students with surnames beginning A or B and a limited number beginning after Cr :P

Dusk was falling soft and pink-orange as the train pulled into Hogsmeade Station. A tall boy and girl walked down the full length of the train tapping on doors and informing first years that luggage was always left on the train and that it would be deposited into common rooms after the sorting ceremony. When the train finally chugged to a stop the doors swung open and students began eagerly disembarking.

Luna, Jamie, Michael and Colin all stayed close to one another, trying to see over the heads of the much taller older students until they heard a large, booming voice calling out from near the front of the train “Firs' Years! Follow me, Firs' Years!”

As their little group got closer, they saw a very large man, huge even. Standing about twice as high as a normal man and about three times as wide. Jamie's first thought upon seeing him was that he was probably the best option for guiding first-year students since he was so inordinately visible.

Hermione and Ginny from the train were easily spotted standing next to the large man and Hermione seemed to be animatedly telling the story of the closed platform back in London. Jamie's second thought about the very large man was that he was awfully like Roald Dahl's “BFG”, he seemed to be avidly trying to comfort Ginny while still searching the crowd for any straggling first years. The four of them were the last to arrive.

“Right then!” The huge man boomed, clapping his hands together. “My name is Hagrid and I'm the Groundskeeper for Hogwarts. Follow me then.” They exited the tiny platform, catching a glance at the other students who were gathering in the square outside the station boarding carriages pulled by creepy looking skeletal horses.

Jamie nudged Luna and nodded towards the creatures. “Any idea what those are?” She asked.

Luna looked from the carriages to Jamie. “You see them too?” When Jamie nodded, feeling rather confused by her new friend's question Luna continued “They're Thestrals. They can only be seen by people who have witnessed someone die.” 

The other girl's pale eyes watched her, not filled with pity, but rather understanding, before looping an arm through Jamie's elbow and pulling her to catch up with the rest of the first-year group. 

They stayed linked arm in arm as they steadied each other down a rather steep and narrow path, stumbling in the rapidly growing darkness.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," They heard Hagrid call from up ahead, "jus' round this bend here."

Michael helped Jamie and Luna jump down from a large rock at the bottom of the hill hearing the others gasp delighted “Oooohs” and “Wows”. And as they hurried to catch up, they saw the path open up on the banks of a huge inky lake. The other side of the lake rose steeply into a cliff, atop which sat the castle. Its highest turrets were just visible as silhouettes against the vast sky full of stars. It was a rare, cloudless night with the full expanse of the milky way displaying its grandeur.

Right in front of them was a little jetty with boats lined up on either side, about eight a side with one right on the end that Hagrid was stood beside. 

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, getting into his own.

“I've never been on a boat,” whispered Michael. “Mum always says they are dirty and wet.” He looked rather untrustingly at the boat. “And how are we supposed to steer? The oars are missing!”

Colin had already jumped down into the boat which rocked quite earnestly before steadying. “Magic!” exclaimed Colin, grinning from ear to ear. “I expect we will steer with magic.”

Michael rolled his eyes before carefully climbing in and then holding onto the jetty to steady the boat for Luna and Jamie. “A cynic and a gentleman.” quipped Jamie as she sat down next to Luna. Michael chuckled.

"Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, peering around at the group of boats. “Right then - FOREWARD!”

The little boats had just begun to glide away from the jetty when the quiet night was interrupted by the most peculiar sound. It roared and groaned and gargled and everyone began frantically looking around at the water below them as though expecting a monster to be about to swallow them up, all except Ginny who sat in the boat in front of Jamie's. Ginny's eyes were glued on the sky, turned back the direction they had come from. Jamie twisted around just in time to catch sight of a large blue muggle car flying through the air. Well more falling than flying. It was losing altitude fast and headed straight for the castle on the other side of the lake.

Ginny swore enough to make the other girls in her boat gasp and blush before muttering about how “Mum's gonna kill him.” She let out a final little scream when the car very nearly crashed directly into the castle itself before narrowly turning and disappearing behind the castle.

The little boats muttered with “Merlin's Beard! What was that?” or when distant shrieking of wood against metal sounded from the distance, the hushed silence that fell seemed louder still than any words.

Before long at all, they had reached a small archway in the cliff face, hidden with drooping ivy. The tunnel opened up into a small underground harbour, where the little boats came to a stop.

Everyone clambered onto the jetty and waited patiently on a pebble beach before Hagrid joined them, marching up a flight of steps carved into the rock to a huge oak door where he knocked three times, letting the booms of each knock ring out. 

For a moment, nothing happened. Hagrid raised an eyebrow and looked as though he were about to knock again when the door swung open revealing a tall, black-haired witch in scarlet robes. She seemed slightly winded as though she had just run but had a stern sort of face and analytical eyes. Jamie guessed who she was from one of her mother's old stories before Hagrid even started speaking.

"Firs' years, this is Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts," said Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here." 

She pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was huge. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches, and the ceiling was too high to make out. A wide marble staircase was facing them leading to the upper floors with a small passageway entrance beside it.

To the left of them stood another huge door, which by the slight draft, seemed to be the main door outside, while to the right was a large door from whence the din of hundreds of voices could be heard echoing. But Professor McGonagall led the group across the flagged stone floor to a smaller door beside it. She indicated they all enter the small room.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history, and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."

She left the chamber. 

Colin leaned into their little huddle of a group eagerly. “How d'ya suppose they sort us into houses?”

Michael looked a little green “It's not a test, is it? I've read through all my schoolbooks, but it would be horribly racist to muggleborns if it is a magical test.”

Luna shook her head. “Nope, no test. Just an ancient enchanted hat that looks into your mind and sorts you based on your potential and current characteristics.”

The other first years were staring at her as though the words weren't reassuring at all. Colin looked thrilled, Michael let out an exasperated sigh, clearly having been more comfortable with proving his worth by a test than having something peer into his head.

Just then four pearlescent ghosts sailed through the sidewall. One was a rather fat friar in what would have been a dark brown cassock robe covered over by a white cape and white-collar. His feet were bare. Another ghost looked to be in Elizabethan garb complete with ruff and tights. The third was a lady in a sweeping, extensively gored gown of delicate silk and extensive embroidery, her hair escaping a braid that fell below her waist, her head covered by a fillet and veil. The last was rather dour looking. He was tall and wiry and wore an elaborately embroidered bliant over a court undertunic, the bliant was stained with silvery blood. His face tensed in a scowl.

"New students!" said the friar, smiling around at them. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"

A few people nodded mutely.

The dour-looking man had been looking around and inspecting them all when his eyes rested on Jamie. Well not quite on Jamie but rather the wall just behind her where her shadow seemed slightly darker and furrier than the shadows around her. She stepped to the side to block his view.

The dour ghost seemed to glare a little at Jamie before turning and leaving without a word.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" the Friar continued. "My old house, you know."

"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony is about to start. "

Professor McGonagall had returned. The ghosts smiled and waved at the new students before floating away through the wall.

"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me." 

The little chamber really wasn't large enough for one continuous line, but they all shimmied into a spiral with Jamie wedged between Luna and a very excited Colin. Jamie thought she heard Professor McGonagall mutter something about year group sizes finally being on route to normal numbers before leading the head of the column back out into the entry chamber and through the huge double doors of the Great Hall.

It was better than her mother's stories, better than anything she had imagined it could look like, and by Colin's excited “Oh my gosh” phrases stated hurriedly on repeat, she had no doubt she was not the only one to be so awed. The enchanted ceiling shone bright with the plethora of stars from the clear night skies, putting to shame the thousands of candles which hovered above the four long tables, wax dripping down stems and then pausing there as though refusing to drip onto the empty gold platters below.

Professor McGonagall led them all towards a dais at the front of the room at which a fifth table stood with the teachers. Two seats were empty, the one right beside the headmaster and the other at the far end of the row and it took a moment before Jamie realised that Professor Snape was not there. They came to a halt facing the hundreds of staring older students.

Jamie suddenly noticed that the ties and robe linings of the other students were all the colours of their houses while the first years only had black ties and robes. She wondered if new linings and ties were provided or if the uniform salespeople of Diagon Alley charmed them to change.

Professor McGonagall silently stepped to the centre of the dais and placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool, she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and rather dirty looking. Jamie wondered about whether the school hospital ward ever had to deal with lice outbreaks after that hat was placed on the head of every first-year present.

For a few seconds, there was complete silence, all the students watching the hat eagerly. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth -- and the hat began to sing.

When muggles and wizardkind alike,  
still mingled and still shared,  
There came about a change of heart,  
suspicion in the air.  
Four great friends did stand true,  
Four minds who built the school.  
To protect young minds,  
From troubled times.  
And now we must Sort you!  
By Gryffindor, the bravest were  
Prized far beyond the rest;  
For Ravenclaw, the cleverest  
Would always be the best;  
For Hufflepuff, hard workers were  
Most worthy of admission;  
And power-hungry Slytherin  
Loved those of great ambition.  
There’s nothing hidden in your head  
The Sorting Hat can’t see,  
So try me on and I will tell you  
Where you ought to be. 

There was a pause as though the hat was listening to something or thinking of more verses before it bowed to each of the tables and the Hall thundered with applause.

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said “Creevey, Colin.”

Colin dashed forward; a grin plastered to his face as he shoved the hat on his head. It had barely covered his eyes before - -

“GRYFFINDOR” the hat shouted.

The table furthest to the right from the perspective of the dais exploded in cheers and clapping.

Next was “Cromwell, Michael.” who gave the two girls a sceptical sort of grin before putting the hat on his head. The hat seemed to need quite a moment for him before it declared -

“SLYTHERIN.” The table furthest to the left clapped loudly as he made his way down. Jamie noticed that Colin sat at the Gryffindor table now seemed to turn bodily to face the dais, avoiding eye contact with Michael who was throwing him a two-finger salute before going over to the Slytherin table.

There were still over fifty first-years to sort but the line was disappearing quickly. After, “Livingstone, Joshua”

“HUFFLEPUFF”

Followed by his twin sister “Livingstone, Georgia”

“GRYFFINDOR”

And "Logg, Elise" who went to Gryffindor, came the fateful, “Lovegood, Luna” who with a last squeeze of Jamie's elbow, sat down and was promptly sorted into -

“RAVENCLAW” the hat shouted. Jamie sighed, her new friends all in different houses. She supposed it meant at least she would always know someone in joint house classes.

Down the alphabet went the list, the enthusiastic applause of the first half of the list dying down to polite scatterings. Eventually, there was “Sayre, Alice” who went to Hufflepuff followed by “Schwarz, James.”

Jamie stepped forward hearing a light titter from two of the girls still remaining and a whispered “Her name is James?” before McGonnigall glared at them.

“It's definitely a first for me to see a mind quite settled on a house primarily through a love of badgers, I must say.” Said a voice in Jamie's head.

Jamie laughed before trying to think her response rather than say anything out loud. “I just feel it takes ambition, courage, intelligence, and hard work to make a well-rounded person, so the badger was a good selling point.” she thought.

The hat seemed a little put out, however, “I know why you can't be in Slytherin; you fear their eyes and their whispers. But you could be great in Ravenclaw, your mother certainly was... or Gryffindor your father's house would work as well... No... I see what you are trying to hide from me, what you try to hide from everyone. Loneliness. In Hufflepuff, you will be surrounded by caring people without the opportunity to be noticed. Oh, how I do wish you could be in Slytherin, your cunning would do well there but it had better be -”

“HUFFLEPUFF!” The hat shouted

amie made her way down to her new table. One of the Weasley twins leaned over the aisle from where they sat at Gryffindor to whisper “Oi, James, why'd the hat take so long on you? Not often seen a hat stall end with Hufflepuff.”

Jamie smirked “I'd tell you but then I'd have to kill you.” she quoted.

George, for Jamie, was quite sure it was him, chuckled and turned back to his mates while Jamie turned to her table.

The rest of the sorting went quickly ending with Weasley, Ginevra who went to Gryffindor; Weiss, Jordan (another Gryffindor); Williams, Patricia who joined Hufflepuff and Yardley, Grace who went to Slytherin.

Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away. Then Dumbledore got to his feet and hushed the room for quiet.

"Welcome," he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! And for some their very first. Please enjoy the feast!” He clapped his hands and at the same moment that food appeared before them all, Jamie noticed that the robe linings and ties of all the first years changed colour to match their house.

Then he and Professor McGonnigall left the room through the dais side door looking fairly grim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have created a list of all 60 students in this year group (I have 15 muggle-borns, 12 half and halfs, 33 purebloods)  
> (16 Gryffindor (8 boys, 8 girls), 12 Slytherin (6 boys,6 girls), 20 Hufflepuff (11 boys, 9 girls), 12 Ravenclaw (6 boys, 6 girls) - Fewer Slytherins because they don't take muggle-borns.  
> 1\. Colin Creevey – Gryffindor  
> 2\. Michael Cromwell -Slytherin  
> 3\. Elvis Cross – Hufflepuff  
> 4\. Marino Dendron - Slytherin  
> 5\. Harry Dowson - Hufflepuff  
> 6\. Opal Dovetail – Ravenclaw  
> 7\. Boyd Eaglet – Ravenclaw  
> 8\. Marius Edgecome – Hufflepuff  
> 9\. Veronica Elm – Slytherin  
> 10\. Ashleigh Enfield – Gryffindor  
> 11\. George England – Gryffindor  
> 12\. Angelica Evergreen – Slytherin  
> 13\. Henrietta Fawcett -Slytherin  
> 14\. Jade Fawley - Hufflepuff  
> 15\. Louvenia Flint – Gryffindor  
> 16\. Wayne Fox – Gryffindor  
> 17\. Michelle Gladstone -Hufflepuff  
> 18\. Daniela Glover – Slytherin  
> 19\. Basil Goldhorn – Hufflepuff  
> 20\. Silver Gorgon – Slytherin  
> 21\. Blanche Graytwig – Slytherin  
> 22\. Molly Griffins – Gryffindor  
> 23\. Joseph Haley -Hufflepuff  
> 24\. Claire Haywood – Gryffindor  
> 25\. Louis Kama – Hufflepuff  
> 26\. Kimberley Lancaster - Ravenclaw  
> 27\. Kyle Lee – Gryffindor  
> 28\. Katheryn Leroy – Hufflepuff  
> 29\. Joshua Livingstone - Hufflepuff  
> 30\. Georgia Livingstone – Gryffindor  
> 31\. Elise Logg – Gryffindor  
> 32\. Luna Lovegood – Ravenclaw  
> 33\. Dale Lyptus – Slytherin  
> 34\. Timothy Lyptus – Gryffindor  
> 35\. Hannah MacDougal - Hufflepuff  
> 36\. Phoenix Oleander – Gryffindor  
> 37\. Clarence Pickering – Slytherin  
> 38\. Lillian Roots – Ravenclaw  
> 39\. Hibiscus Rose – Gryffindor  
> 40\. Gregorio Rosewood – Gryffindor  
> 41\. Peter Ross - Hufflepuff  
> 42\. Susan Rowle – Hufflepuff  
> 43\. Alice Sayre - Hufflepuff  
> 44\. James Schwarz - Hufflepuff  
> 45\. Sherry Simmons – Ravenclaw  
> 46\. Russel Smith – Hufflepuff  
> 47\. Oscar Snyde - Ravenclaw  
> 48\. Flint Stems - Slytherin  
> 49\. William Stewart - Hufflepuff  
> 50\. Drew Sweetleaf – Ravenclaw  
> 51\. Shannon Terry - Ravenclaw  
> 52\. Melanie Travers – Hufflepuff  
> 53\. Jasper Tuft – Ravenclaw  
> 54\. Juniper Twelvetrees – Hufflepuff  
> 55\. Douglas Underwood - Ravenclaw  
> 56\. Leonard Vaughan - Ravenclaw  
> 57\. Ginevra Weasley – Gryffindor  
> 58\. Jordan Weiss – Gryffindor  
> 59\. Patricia Williams – Hufflepuff  
> 60\. Grace Yardley – Slytherin
> 
> 15 muggle borns: 5G (3b,2g) 5H (3b, 2g) 5R (2b, 3g)
> 
> Colin Creevey – Gryffindor  
> Elvis Cross – Hufflepuff  
> Ashleigh Enfield – Gryffindor  
> George England – Gryffindor  
> Wayne Fox - Gryffindor  
> Michelle Gladstone -Hufflepuff  
> Joseph Haley -Hufflepuff  
> Kimberley Lancaster - Ravenclaw  
> Joshua Livingstone - Hufflepuff  
> Georgia Livingstone – Gryffindor  
> Sherry Simmons – Ravenclaw  
> Shannon Terry - Ravenclaw  
> Douglas Underwood - Ravenclaw  
> Leonard Vaughan - Ravenclaw  
> Patricia Williams – Hufflepuff
> 
> 12 half and halfs: 6S (5g, 1b), 2H (1g, 1b), 2R (1g, 1b), 2G (2g, 0b)
> 
> Michael Cromwell -Slytherin  
> Angelica Evergreen - Slytherin  
> Henrietta Fawcett -Slytherin  
> Daniela Glover – Slytherin  
> Basil Goldhorn – Hufflepuff  
> Blanche Graytwig – Slytherin  
> Elise Logg – Gryffindor  
> Lillian Roots – Ravenclaw  
> Hibiscus Rose – Gryffindor  
> Jasper Tuft - Ravenclaw  
> Juniper Twelvetrees - Hufflepuff  
> Grace Yardley – Slytherin
> 
> 33 purebloods: 6S (5b, 1g), 13H (6b, 7g), 5R (3b,2g), 9G (5b, 4g)
> 
> Marino Dendron - Slytherin  
> Harry Dowson - Hufflepuff  
> Opal Dovetail - Ravenclaw  
> Boyd Eaglet – Ravenclaw  
> Marius Edgecome - Hufflepuff  
> Veronica Elm – Slytherin  
> Jade Fawley - Hufflepuff  
> Louvenia Flint – Gryffindor  
> Silver Gorgon – Slytherin  
> Molly Griffins – Gryffindor  
> Claire Haywood – Gryffindor  
> Louis Kama - Hufflepuff  
> Kyle Lee – Gryffindor  
> Katheryn Leroy - Hufflepuff  
> Luna Lovegood – Ravenclaw  
> Dale Lyptus – Slytherin  
> Timothy Lyptus – Gryffindor  
> Hannah MacDougal - Hufflepuff  
> Phoenix Oleander – Gryffindor  
> Clarence Pickering – Slytherin  
> Gregorio Rosewood – Gryffindor  
> Peter Ross - Hufflepuff  
> Susan Rowle – Hufflepuff  
> Alice Sayre - Hufflepuff  
> James Schwarz - Hufflepuff  
> Russel Smith – Hufflepuff  
> Oscar Snyde - Ravenclaw  
> Flint Stems - Slytherin  
> William Stewart - Hufflepuff  
> Drew Sweetleaf – Ravenclaw  
> MelanieTravers - Hufflepuff  
> Ginevra Weasley – Gryffindor  
> Jordan Weiss – Gryffindor


	13. Welcome to Hufflepuff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It may be obvious that I love Hufflepuff. What is not obvious is the number of hours I spent creating a layout for the castle on paint because Harry "Oblivious protagonist" Potter does not seem to take particular notice of how to get to this wonderful paradise of comfiness.

Jamie could not believe her eyes at the amount of food that was present there were platters of roast turkey, chicken wings and drumsticks, Beef Wellington and slow-cooked lamb stew, sausages, chops, and bacon. There were mashed potatoes, boiled new potatoes with mint and crunchy looking roasties. There were sautéed vegetables with melting lumps of butter, there were tureens of stuffing, dumplings, there were meat pies, vegetable pies, fish pies and large jugs of gravy interspersed with bowls of mixed salad and coleslaw.

An older girl sitting next to the first of the sorted Hufflepuffs leaned in to warn them all to pace themselves for dessert.

Having had a chicken sandwich on the train, Jamie helped herself to a small bowl of stew to start with before adding a few slices of beef, three roasties, and a heaping portion of salad to her plate. It was a particularly good salad, not the sad, over packed iceberg lettuce type but full to bursting with tomato, sweet pepper, cucumber, avocado, little garlic croutons, feta cheese, and mixed leaves.

It was around this point that Professor Snape entered the Hall through the same entrance Professor McGonagall had exited. He seemed positively smug about something and Jamie noticed Hagrid turn to ask him something. Whatever had Snape so... well not delighted but the Professor Snape equivalent seemed to have Hagrid awfully upset.

Jamie watched with wide eyes as some of the older boys precariously stacked piles of meat and potatoes on their plates to hoard like dragons from their friends. It all looked and smelled and tasted incredible, but Jamie had always eaten her main meals at lunchtime and knew her limits.

The Fat Friar from the entry chamber was hover sitting between two of the first girls to be sorted, laughing jovially about something to do with not needing to be afraid of the blood-stained ghost who he called the Bloody Baron, who sat over at the Slytherin table but that Peeves, the Poltergeist could be a bit of a handful so he recommended travelling in groups.

Somehow, the vast majority of the platters were actually cleared of food and the remains vanished soon after, leaving shiny platters behind only to be replaced a moment later with desserts and puddings of every variety. 

There were bowls of moose, blocks of ice cream, apple, strawberry, blackberry, rhubarb and pecan nut pies, custard tartlets, treacle tart, steamed sponges, bread puddings, baklava, choux pastries, large vats of jelly and even a few cakes. Jugs of custard and cream dotted every few people. But the thing that drew Jamie's eye, in particular, was placed right in front of her as if the house elves had known she would be there. Bienenstich or Bee sting cake in English, it was her favourite and the caramelised almonds sat perfect and inviting, no one seeming to have yet taken any notice of the foreign pudding.

Jamie was helping herself to a very large square when Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall entered again, the house-elves had sent up plates of dinner for each of them and they began to tuck in hungrily.

The Beesting cake was to die for with a light airy filling that was somewhere between a vanilla custard and cream and the dough was soft and light and spongy, perfectly complimenting the crunch of the caramel almond top. Jamie had no eyes for any other treat or pudding and when she had eaten all she could she dipped her finger into some of the remaining cream filling to write “thank you” on the plate. She hoped the elves would see it and somehow sense from those two little words her overwhelming sense of content.

Jamie studied the staff table as she waited for everyone to finish, a few people trying the Bee sting cake after watching Jamie's happy sighs and delighted groans with great amusement. Hagrid still looked worried, Snape still looked smug, one Professor with elaborately styled blond hair and fancy blue robes seemed red in the face from wine and was talking enthusiastically with two female professors, both who were giggling slightly.

When at long last the desserts were cleared too and everyone was looking sated and sleepy, Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again and the hall fell silent.

“Thank you,” said Professor Dumbledore, smiling down at them all. “A few notices before you all head to your dormitories and beds.”

“It should be noted, that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all students, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side which was out of bounds last year is once again usable, however, our caretaker Mr Filch has asked me to remind students that entering locked doors by magic or otherwise is strictly prohibited at all times, regardless of where in the castle the door might be.”

A number of students, including the Weasley twins, laughed loudly at this and Dumbledore's eyes twinkled in amusement before he continued.

“As I am sure you are aware due to the events of the end of last year, the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts professor once again needed filling. May I present, Mr Gilderoy Lockhart, an alumnus of Hogwarts. Let us hope that his lessons are enlightening.”

Strangely, Professor Dumbledore didn't sound particularly enthused or hopeful about this introduction and when the blond-haired man staggered to his feet with a slurred “Thank you, Professor -” and seemed about to launch into a speech to the delight of the two staff members on either side of him, Dumbledore raised an eyebrow and looked at him until the man sat back down.

“Finally,” Dumbledore continued, “As I am sure all of the first years and many of the older pupils will have seen this evening. Two students arrived on the Hogwarts grounds this evening via a flying muggle car. They landed in the Whomping Willow causing the tree a great deal of distress and damage.”

At this proclamation, one of the Professors, a plump woman in green gasped loudly and clasped her hands to her face and Professor McGonagall patted her shoulder consolingly while whispering in her ear.

“I can assure you all,” said Dumbledore, “that the culprits have been punished accordingly and that any pupil attempting any such similar exploits will be considered for expulsion.”

Nodding to himself as the hushed whispers scattered about the room before settling back to silence. 

“On happier terms, I wish to welcome everyone back to a new year of Hogwarts. May we all learn a great deal. Please stand for the school song!”

With that, he flicked his wand sharply releasing a long ribbon of golden light which swirled and began to form words in the air above everyone.

Jamie was already rather concerned by the lack of notes or music or anything that might keep everyone singing in time before she noticed that the lyrics weren't particularly inspiring either. 

"Everyone picks their favourite tune," said Dumbledore to Jamie's continued disbelief, "and off we go!"

And the school bellowed:

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,

Teach us something please,

Whether we be old and bald

Or young with scabby knees,

Our heads could do with filling

With some interesting stuff,

For now they're bare and full of air,

Dead flies and bits of fluff,

So teach us things worth knowing,

Bring back what we've forgot, just do your best, we'll do the rest,

And learn until our brains all rot. "

Everybody finished the song at different times. The Weasley twins and two other boys had begun a barbershop quartet and were clicking and harmonising as though the song were a raspy jazz ballad, one of the boys even kept beat on the table and platters. It was a study in chaos and Jamie could only just stand mesmerised by the weirdness of it all, and how delighted Professor Dumbledore seemed.

At long last, it ended, and Dumbledore signalled that they were all excused to bed, telling first years to follow prefects.

Six older students stood and approached the first years, introducing themselves as the Hufflepuff prefects, the seventh year pair then left to see to the other students while the remaining four each collected up five students and directed them out of the hall in an orderly fashion.

Exiting the Great Hall, they joined the Slytherins in going through the narrow passageway beside the marble staircase. The passageway opened out onto a landing that held on the left, a narrow door marked with a plaque stating, “Caretaker's Office” and to the right was a wide spiral staircase which led downwards. Little archer's windows dotted one side of the stairwell arch, and if Jamie peaked out of them, shielding her eyes from the torchlight, she could just see the stars reflected on the lake. The first level down opened out on a platform and the Hufflepuff's all siphoned off down the passage while the Slytherins continued downwards. Jamie waved after Michael as he exhaustedly continued down the stairs.

The prefect that accompanied Jamie had introduced himself as Simon Dedworth, a fifth year who tried to point things out as they went. 

“The Slytherin Common room is down another floor in the old Dungeons. Not much else down there except the potions classrooms and Professor Snape's office.”

The corridor was warm and brightly lit and the smell of food hung heavy in the air. They proceeded past a large still-life portrait of a bowl of fruit to their right, which Simon identified as the entrance to the kitchens and explained that they were directly below the Great Hall now, before they reached a large, shadowed recess containing huge barrels stacked four barrels high and layered four then five then four then five from the ground up. Each barrel was easily more than half of Jamie's height and the one in the middle of the second row from the ground was open with a few older students hoisting themselves inside.

“If the door is closed.” said Simon, “knock on that barrel to the rhythm of Helga Hufflepuff. Two beats, pause, three beats. Got it? Don't tap any other barrel except that one or you'll end up doused in vinegar.” He then began helping some first years up.

When Jamie clambered up, she was happy to find that after the barrel, the tunnel opened up to a sloping earthy passageway leading to a cosy but large, low ceilinged space filled with warm, honey-coloured wooden beams and furniture, the walls were the shade of clotted cream. Vine-like plants hung from the beams here and there and pot plants of various assorted types dotted the room.

Couches and armchairs and desk chairs held black and gold-yellow cushions and large piles of quilts and fluffy blankets were stacked in the corners of the room. The floor was dark wood, varnished near black and soft looking rugs covered the main walk and seating areas.

Directly in front of the entrance were three large round porthole windows that stared out at the darkness. The right-hand wall would back up against the Kitchens and held a roaring fire with a picture of a lady in burgundy dress robes holding a goblet. The walls curved like a small underground animal den rather than a typical room and had two large doors in the arched wall to the left with older students disappearing through both, suggesting they were the ways to the dorm rooms, however, it wasn't as though boys were going through one and girls through the other but rather clumps of year groups.

The seventh-year prefects stood between the doors calling the first years together into a huddle and dismissing the other four prefects.

“Welcome to Hufflepuff everyone!” said the cheery-looking female prefect. “We're just going to run you through some basic points before you head to bed.”

She pointed at a large noticeboard between the two doors. “We keep this notice board up to date with our house prefects’ availabilities as well as open-door hours that our head of House, Professor Sprout keeps. She has her quarters just across from the kitchens but is rarely there except after curfew, so it's better to see her in her office between greenhouse two and three if you need her.” The prefect turned to her male counterpart who nodded and took over.

“Breakfast is available from 6:30 am until 8:45 am, first lessons start at 9 am, lunch is from 12 until 1:30 pm followed by afternoon lessons. Dinner or supper or tea (whichever you call it) starts at 6 pm sharp and is available until 7:30 pm, all mealtimes are drop in and out unless it is a feast night, which will be announced on the notice board. Curfew is from 8:30 pm to 5 am the next morning, anyone who gets caught outside the common room during that time will lose house points and get detention.”

The girl took over once more. “Helga Hufflepuff had her own way of running her house so you will find slight and subtle differences in how each operates. Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor both had certain ideas about protecting women's virtue and so have separate dorms for girls and boys with traps to keep boys out of girls’ dormitories. Whereas, both Rowena Ravenclaw and Helga Hufflepuff simply have individual rooms for their students which no other student may enter. They both felt that a boarding school involved being completely surrounded by people for the vast majority of the day and that everyone needed time and space to be alone, for relaxing or studying. So, these two doors lead to a network of passages. Your dorm will never move during your time here so you can make it your own, although anyone using permanent sticking charms or otherwise damaging the room will have to pay for expert removal.” She smiled then called out a list of roughly half the group of first years to follow her while the other half was to follow the seventh year boy.

The two groups both entered through the leftmost door with their group. “Your dorms are easy enough to find. You follow this path until you get to a fork, take the right-hand branch and when you reach a second fork you go left. There will be a hallway of doors, just learn which is yours, some people put their names or pictures up on the door to help everyone get to know each other.” called the girl who Jamie could just make out over the bobbing heads of the taller year mates in her group.

The prefects also showed them the bathroom block which had multiple entrances along the main passage so that people from the different halls could access it.

The passageway was lit by torches, but Jaimie could see skylight windows all the way along, suggesting the entire area would be well lit regardless of the time of day.

When they reached their hallway, the girl leading Jamie's group kept walking until about the centre to begin distributing rooms while the other prefect's group started right at the start of the hallway. Everyone was keen to be assigned their rooms, a few people who had obviously met on the train and had clumped together exclaimed with excitement if they received rooms next to or opposite one another. Finally, only Jamie and the last Hufflepuff girl to have been sorted were left. Their doors right by the end of the tunnel.

Jamie was assigned the one on the right and smiled back as the other girl said, “howdy neighbour”.

The room was perfect. Small but cosy and with everything Jamie could need, there was her huge trunk by the foot of her four-poster bed, a little desk sat in an alcove next to an empty bookshelf and a little wardrobe stood near the door. She could see a round window set in the left-hand wall as well as little skylights dotted around the ceiling.

“It's east-facing.” said the prefect who stood in the doorway smiling. “I hope you are an early riser because the sun will shine right in. I've known several people who have begged to trade with people on the other end to avoid it.”

“No, it's brilliant.” said Jamie grinning, “I love mornings.”

The prefect snort laughed. “I hope for your sake that enthusiasm lasts, goodness knows I struggle to be awake before nine.”

She left Jamie to settle in and soon she was slipping into her pyjamas and between the soft sheets. She was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little about my headcanon about the different common rooms:  
> Gryffindor have shared dormitories because firstly, who are we kidding these are the extravert jocks and secondly, they are in a tower so you would have like the common room space on the lowest level and then the spiral staircases for girls and boys dorms where they would each have a half-circle per dorm which fits a maximum of five beds so, in larger year groups, more layers of the tower would be needed. 
> 
> I figure Ravenclaw tower is common room at the bottom and then a single large spiral staircase up the center of the room with landings on each level and small individual rooms like pidgeon holes. Much more airy than Gryffindor.
> 
> I have actually sat and made a map of the front of Hogwarts keeping in mind directions and such. Effectively as within the Chamber of Secrets book where Harry and Ron get a sneaky peek at the Slytherin Common room, you enter it and about half the ceiling is glass and they are under the black lake. I like to imagine they also have like smaller porthole windows that look out into the lake on the opposite wall but that's just my thoughts.Then they have a girl's wing to the right and a boys wing to the left, these are huge but still communal to small groups of about four or five because I figure Slytherins like to talk, gossip, share secrets and are social but quieter about it. There is a lot more room division going on with little bits of furniture to give everyone a feel of their own space. But it kind of is meant to tie in with like old fashioned noble customs of having ladies in waiting and butlers.  
> Then obviously there is Hufflepuff which has always been described halfway between a hobbit hole and a badger set. I kind of like Hobbit hole common room but earthy passageways and little burrows because honestly if I went to Hogwarts I would be in desperate need for alone space.


	14. A Useful Map

Jamie woke naturally at her usual time of 6 am. She had always been an early riser and regardless of how comfy and warm her new bed was, her mind was already abuzz with a list of things she wished to get sorted before the new day truly broke.

She exited her room and walked quietly down the hall with her toiletry bag to do her morning ablutions before returning. She made her bed and cast her curtains wide, peering out at the pre-dawn grey outside. She was on the opposite side of the cliff face that overlooked the Black Lake. Her view was instead that of the castle stretching out to the left (not that she could glimpse much of it from down here) and to the right were the grounds and forest. A mist hung around a large grouping of greenhouses in the distance and Jamie could just make out the distant glow of the coming Sun on the horizon.

Knowing that she could not go for a morning run until at least 6:30, Jamie applied herself to unpacking some of her trunk.

Assigned books for this year went to her bookshelf, including the folders of notes she had found from previous generations. She also pulled out one of her mother's folders from her later years at school to grab out a hand-drawn map that had the approximate Hogwarts floor plan, no doubt it would be very useful over the next few days while she got her bearings.

There were two little shelves above the desk, and she filled the topmost one with spare empty lever arch files and notepaper, but she kept a small ring binder file for each of her subjects as well as her art paper on the lower shelf. Then muggle stationery went neatly to the one desk drawer while sheets and rolls of parchment went to the second, deeper drawer. She then fetched her empty school bag and filled it with a single ring binder file that had dividers for each subject, an exam paper pad, a documents wallet, two of her muggle super-fast drying pens, pencil, ruler, sharpener and eraser all in a pencil case in the front pocket and then added her diary and the map. She would have to return for textbooks once she had her timetable, so she wasn't lugging around everything.

Next, she hung her clothes up in the little wardrobe, there was a side of shelves in the wardrobe so she added her telescope and scales and potions things to one shelf and the rest hosted Jamie's vast collection of jumpers, socks and smalls, pyjamas, scarves, gloves, and hats.

She was surprised to note that all three of her school ties and the one scarf she had bought that had been black with the Hogwarts crest had now become striped black and yellow. She then added her dragon hide gloves to her school bag so as to not forget them.

She then found the laundry bag Mrs Harris had bought her and put it beside her bed, adding her clothes from the day before. Taking out her hang up boxing bag and gloves, she closed her trunk and stood on it in order to hang the bag from one of the low beams of the ceiling. Finally, Jamie added the sanitary products to the shelf of the wardrobe that held her toiletries and first aid kit, packed the little sanitary tin into a side pocket of her school bag and placed the muggle school revision guides and the crossword puzzles they contained into a corner of the desk, adding her ink wells, quills and fountain pen neatly beside them.

Jamie sighed and stretched as she took in her new room. It felt more like her own now that it was filled.

The only things left in her trunk were the extra textbooks and notes for other years and her mother's photograph and the collection of notes and books from Junior school that the Harrises had insisted she take for reviewing anything she forgot.

That done she sat down at the desk and scribbled out a hasty letter to the Harrises giving some details of the food at the feast, the views on the train journey, how she had been placed in Hufflepuff just as she wanted (she kept the details of how she was sorted vague) and finally a little about each of the people she had met on the train. She was hesitant to call them “friends” just yet given how they were all in different houses, but she felt it was good she had met them all the same. She then folded up the letter, stuck it into an envelope she left unsealed that she added a stamp to before putting that envelope into a second envelope that could be owled to Mr Pilchard so that he might send on her letter to the Harrises by regular post.

The sun was peeking over the horizon and Jamie could see the light eat away at the dark sky, the slight breeze pulling at the morning mist. And, checking the time, Jamie found it was just after 6:30, meaning she would be free to go for her run.

~ ~ ~

It turned out incredibly useful to have her mother's map as Hogwarts for all intents and purposes, was a maze. Going back up the stairs she had come down last night seemed like the wrong way since the main door opened up to a long road down the steep hill and back to Hogsmeade Station.

Instead, Jaime exited the very empty and quiet common room with her sports bag, followed the corridor back past the kitchen and circular stairwell and onwards up a sloped passage to a door that opened on a quad with an overhanging roof covering the path that lined it. Cutting across the quad, to an opposite corner she entered the base of a tower with a large stone staircase spiralling along the wall, the map identified this as the Gryffindor Tower and it had two archways, one opening out to a bridge leading to the owlery and the other opened out to a small courtyard. The spindly little bridge to the owlery was narrow and rather open to the elements, Jamie rather hoped that come winter she could blame the bad weather for delayed post, because she imagined that once icy, sending an owl would become rather a dangerous affair. But for now, the early dawn was fresh and crisp and pleasant. She spent a little time being distracted by the vast assortment of school owls before carefully giving her letter to a beautiful barn owl that gently clacked its beak before taking off. That done, Jamie retraced her steps, meeting back up with Bast at the base of the bridge, for she seemed to have not the slightest interest in going anywhere near the owls. Jamie then followed the one edge of the quad to a different tower, this one labelled “the Astronomy tower” on her map, which led her out into an adjacent building. The building held a long gallery with portraits lining the high walls and guarded by suits of armour. Side wings to the right displayed armoury halls and a grand trophy room and up ahead Jamie could see the side stairwell that led up to the bell tower and a large set of double doors.

It felt eerily quiet with no one around and walking about, but Bast padded silently beside her and slipped out when Jamie creaked the old doors open.

Jamie folded the map and put it in her sports bag, taking out a large water bottle she had filled before leaving and taking a large gulp of the cool liquid. 

Bast had seated herself on top of a low wall at the base of the stairs so Jamie put her bag down there before giving herself a stretch and shook out her limbs

The grounds stretched out before her. She could see the greenhouses glittering in the early morning light to her right, then a large thatched hut right by the edge of the forest, a very large tree that seemed to move of its own accord was down the hill to the left and further along stood what looked like a stadium, which the map had indicated was the Quidditch pitch.

The grounds were so huge that there was no doubt Jamie would never be in want for an interesting running trail but she decided to head for the Quidditch pitch today, round the whole thing and head back for an early breakfast. It was as she was just getting back, enjoying the warm burn in her muscles that she saw the older plump professor who had seemed distressed by the news last night of damage to the Whomping Willow.

She was carrying a stack of large bandages so tall she could barely see over but when she spotted Jamie she smiled brightly in greeting.

“Oh, hello there dear. What on Earth are you doing out and about this early?” she asked.

“I like to run.” said Jamie simply, before hurrying to add “I waited until after curfew was over”

The woman laughed. “Oh, don't worry. I'm an early riser too! I'm Professor Sprout, Head of Hufflepuff and I teach Herbology. Won't you be a dear and take some of these bandages off the top, so I don't fall and break my neck. Trying to help fix up the Willow you see.” 

Jamie did as she was asked, carefully tucking a stack of bandages under her arm.

“That's better. I don't recognise you, dear, first year then?” Professor Sprout continued walking towards the large, somewhat angry looking thrashing willow tree.

“Oh, umm, yes Professor. I was sorted into Hufflepuff, my name's James Schwarz.” she hurried to keep pace with the woman.

“Marvellous. Lovely to have you with us. I'll be seeing you in class first thing on Wednesday.” Professor Sprout said dropping her pile of bandages on the ground a safe distance from the tree.

“Now, much as I love chatting to my students, this tree has been through quite a bit of trauma and pain and is no doubt going to be rather stroppy to deal with, so I'd recommend keeping back at a safe distance.”

Jamie stepped back for good measure, eyeing the tree. “I should probably head in soon anyway.”

“Alright, dear, well it was lovely meeting you. Thank you for the help with the bandages,” she said taking the pile back from Jamie. “When you get back to the common room, do me a favour? Tell one of the prefects that I am busy out here and so won't be able to distribute the class schedules. They are in my office so they will need to just grab them up. Professor Vector has volunteered to distribute them at breakfast.”

Jamie nodded and backed up some more, keeping a wary eye on the strange tree as it thrashed.

Professor Sprout was talking to it as though it were a small child throwing a tantrum about having to go to the doctors. Any time a branch came swooping down to squish her the Professor nimbly jumped away, heading for the trunk of the tree. When she reached it, she pressed a small knot of roots and suddenly the tree froze. The Professor seemed to notice Jamie was still there looking worried so waved, “It's alright, dear. She won't hurt me.”

Jamie looked from the tree to the short woman before nodding and deciding that clearly, she knew what she was doing, before turning and heading back inside.

The castle was definitely more awake now, with a few older students bustling down to breakfast looking sleepy. Back in the Hufflepuff Common room, Jamie showered quickly and changed into her school uniform and robes before going in search of the prefects. Fortunately, three of them were all huddled in a corner of the sitting area discussing patrol routes.

The fifth-year prefect, Simon who had shown her to the common room the night before, looked up at her approach and smiled. “Can we help with something?”

Jamie nodded “I met Professor Sprout on the grounds this morning and she asked me to tell one of you that she'll be busy helping the Whomping Willow recover so she won't be able to hand out schedules but that a prefect needs to get them from her office and give them to Professor Vector to distribute.” Jamie said in a rush.

Simon looked at the other two “Want me to get them, Susie?”

The seventh-year girl nodded “Please do. I still have to hunt down Hartshill and George to check their schedules don't clash with this.”

“Righto,” replied Simon, gathering up his satchel. “What's your name, kid?” he asked Jamie.

“James Schwarz”

“Okay, Schwarz. If you follow me, I'll get you your schedule before I take the rest to Professor Vector. I'll also grab the other prefects’. Just give them to Susie here and save me a trip back okay?”

By the time Jamie arrived at breakfast, it was already eight o'clock. She had managed to collect all her books for her first two lessons before heading up though, so that was at least something. She helped herself to a large portion of scrambled eggs, toast, and bacon before fishing her diary and a glue stick out of her bag to glue the new schedule to the back page. Transfiguration, Defence Against the Dark Arts then Lunch followed by double charms and then History of Magic. It was going to be a long day but at least she could dump all the Defence books back at her room straight after the lesson. Her back was already aching, surely, they wouldn't need all of the books every lesson.

Looking around while she ate, Jamie noticed she was alone. Many of the other first-years had already clumped together in little twos and threes, but Luna was also alone, sitting at the Ravenclaw table, staring into space and over at the Slytherin Table Michael was studiously focussed on a book while twirling his spoon in his porridge. A quick glance over her shoulder told her that Colin was already settled in nicely with his housemates, expressively telling a story with wild hand gestures.

She was interrupted in her musings by the arrival of the post, owls hooted and called, landing besides their owner's plates. She was still watching Colin telling a story about some accidental magic he had done once that had left his younger brother speaking nonsense words for a week when a booming voice roared through the Hall, the portraits on the walls quivered and the crockery shook.

"-STEALING THE CAR, I WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IF THEY'D EXPELLED YOU, YOU WAIT TILL I GET HOLD OF YOU, I DON'T SUPPOSE YOU STOPPED TO THINK WHAT YOUR FATHER AND I WENT THROUGH WHEN WE SAW IT WAS GONE--" 

Heads around the Hall swivelled toward the Gryffindor table and Jamie soon spotted a boy with red hair and a redder face sat in front of a fuming red envelope, next to him was a boy with a mess of black hair and glasses whose eyes were bulging out of his head, he looked extremely pale. Opposite them were Neville and Hermione. “Ah,” thought Jamie, plugging her ears.

"-LETTER FROM DUMBLEDORE LAST NIGHT, I THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WOULD DIE OF SHAME, WE DIDN'T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS, YOU AND HARRY COULD BOTH HAVE DIED--"  
Whoever was doing the shouting was so worked up she started and dropped thoughts seemingly as they came.  
"-ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED - YOUR FATHER'S FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK, IT'S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT AND IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE WE'LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT BACK HOME."

With that, the envelope exploded into flames. A few people laughed. Confused looking muggleborns soon had their pureblood friends whispering to explain the phenomenon of Howlers and normality was restored.

Professors Vector, Snape, McGonagall and a small man who was little taller than a Goblin, who Jamie guessed must be Professor Flitwick, her mother's old head of house, began passing out class schedules and so, munching down the last of her eggs, Jamie took her Ritalin with a swig of pumpkin juice and decided it was time to find her way to class.

Transfiguration was easy enough to find, the marble staircase just outside of the Great Hall led up to a short bridge to the very large tower diagonally opposite to the Astronomy Tower, then down a flight of stairs, she could see the door that led back to the Kitchen's corridor. Cutting across the quad for the second time that day and taking the bridge to the courtyard and through the base of the “Taurus Magnus”. And then the first door on the left. Number 1B Transfiguration.

She was the first to arrive. “Okay,” thought Jamie, “maybe having a roughly sketched map of the castle made it easier to navigate.” The map did have some useful notes like how one staircase led to a different location on a Friday or that there was a particular patch of wall in the Serpentine corridor that would pretend to be a classroom door. But there were weirder notes as well, a door where the map's key just said, “ask nicely” or a corridor that was coloured in where the key simply said, “hop every third step”. It was bizarre and even though it was among her mother's things, her mother almost certainly did not make it herself. For one thing, the writing was a messy chicken scratch that was nothing like her mother's neat and flowing script and for another, Jamie distinctly remembered her mother saying she had a terrible sense of direction and that she was still getting lost in her seventh year. Never-the-less, it was a very useful map.


	15. The First Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Behold, the horrific monster of a chapter that it has taken me an age and a half to write. I hope you all like it.

Transfiguration, it turned out, would probably get to be very, very interesting… at some point. As Professor McGonagall had put it as she handed out the year's curriculum, it was not “bangs and smells magic”.

There was a vast amount of theoretical knowledge to learn and understand and quite, unfortunately, this meant some incredibly boring lessons were ahead according to Jamie. Professor McGonagall was stern, and her sharp hearing was quick to home in on pen tapping, or restless feet hopping or any particular noise at all that wasn’t the careful scribbling sounds of quills against parchment.

“I have had many foot tappers in my classes, and I have found over the years that it is better to give them something to release tactile energy, than not. Also, if you draw a wide margin on one side of your page you can write out any questions that pop into your mind in the margin while keeping the lesson’s exercise area clear and focused.” Jamie scrambled to do exactly that.

“Good. and another margin at the bottom of the page. This lesson is fairly straightforward but other professors do quite enjoy a rambling lecture so it helps if you summarise the lesson’s main points at the bottom, so you don’t have to read over everything again. The quill is charmed to take dictation. You’ll soon work out easily enough which lessons you’ll need it for and which you don’t.” The professor continued, her lips in a tight smile. “You’ll likely enjoy Hogwarts far better than regular schooling, there’s more activity in lessons.”

Jamie quietly thanked the professor before getting on with her copying down of the symbols, incredibly grateful to have not had one of the rambling lessons first. She did get distracted by strange runes and symbols that had been graffitied on the walls but she copied these down in the margined section for distractions and questions and got back to the lesson at hand as soon as she had noticed her attention had drifted.

At the end of the lesson, Professor McGonagall told them all the homework and which pages to find today’s lesson for reviewing. She passed Jamie as she was noting this down in the bottom margin of her page and remarked about her use of an entirely ordinary muggle pen and had said it was very practical of her since countless previous students who were lefthanders struggled endlessly with smudging their notes and hands. She even referenced one student who had taught themselves to write backwards to avoid the issue but that didn't help for turning in essays or exams. She then had taken down the brand name of the pen, saying how exams were always written with school provided anti-cheating quills but how the same spells could be applied to a pen with little effort.

Pure-blood children had craned their necks to watch as Jamie noted down her homework in her diary, asking where on earth the ink came from. They had shared the lesson with Slytherin, and Michael had sat by himself, but when one of the Slytherin girls had said that left-handedness was an indication of a natural affinity with dark magic while her desk mate had wondered out loud if Jamie was simply too stupid to produce the delicate swirling lettering of a quill, but rather the blocky print Jamie used, Michael had twisted in his seat to tell them they were both stupid before packing up his things and leaving.

“He would stand up for the muggle” Jamie overheard a Slytherin boy say to the girls as they all exited the class and made for a huge tower. “I heard that despite being half-blood, he didn't even know what he was until he got the letter. What's the point of Slytherin's rules about no muggleborns if they just let in people like him anyway? Bet his father didn't even have enough magic for Hogwarts.”

Jamie was fuming. She knew some purebloods were just raised to think that muggles were a subservient species, but this was ridiculous. Shaking with rage Jamie turned from the stairs and made to approach the Slytherins and say something when the entire first-floor corridor the Slytherins had entered began filling up with green smoke, which even from several paces back, Jamie could smell the rotten egg scent. She was pretty sure not even accidental rage-induced magic could cause that so dismissed the idea that she had somehow caused it. Her theory was further proven when a tapestry that hung about halfway up the staircase, she was on began shaking slightly with the occasional wheezy laugh.

Figuring justice, or at the very least partial karma had been reached through the stink bomb, Jamie investigated the tapestry. When she pulled the heavy fabric aside someone gave a loud shriek of surprise before shoving another someone out and down a couple of stairs. Both someones had flaming red hair and had begun to leg it before they noticed Jamie was stood there with an arched eyebrow and a barely restrained belly laugh brewing while still holding the tapestry. It was their completely puzzled expressions that broke her, and she doubled over laughing.

“Your Faces! Ahahaha.” she wheezed and chocked out “You screeched like an owl!”

This, it seemed, was enough to break the mischief-makers from their puzzlement.

“I did not!” the one who shrieked exclaimed indignantly, but he laughed a little too.

The other boy still looked puzzled and turned to his brother. “How'd she do that? I was keeping watch the whole time.” They shared a look that seemed to be a whole silent conversation before the first twin shrugged.

Jamie began examining the tapestry and the space behind it. It seemed to be a tunnel. Jamie rifled through her pocket for her mother's map, finding no tunnel marked, she began fumbling with her satchel.

“What's that?” asked the first twin, both of them coming to stand near her.

“It's a map of Hogwarts,” said Jamie, distracted with trying to find a pencil to mark down this surprising addition.

“Yeah, obviously, but how'd you get it? It's your first day?”

“It was my mum's, she had it in her old school things.” Jamie had just found her pencil when the map was snatched from her hand. “Hey!” she glared at the culprit “give it back.”

The boy ignored her; he was staring transfixed at the map. “Georgie, look” he whispered, grabbing his brother and pulling him close to see.

“Oi!” Jamie tried jumping for the map but even with her on a higher step the boys just moved it higher, now both staring at it.

“The writing's the same, Fred! I'd swear it is.” the second twin whispered, his eyes not leaving the map.

“Could be a prototype?” said Fred.

“A prototype with only the school and nothing hidden?” asked George. They were now in rapid whispered conversation with Jamie's continued hops completely ignored.

“I don't know, maybe it's spelled too. Normal map in standard form and they just figured the other was less suspect as a blank piece of paper?” replied Fred.

George cast his wand over the page. “Can't see anything and then why would she not show up on ours? Everyone shows up on it?”

“Oi!” repeated Jamie “Are you going to give it back so I can get to class, or must I start kicking shins?”

The boys turned to look at her. “I'll give it back if you tell me who your mother is,” said Fred grinning.

“Was,” said Jamie automatically.

“Was what?” asked Fred confused. George's face cleared at the look on Jamie's face and he elbowed his brother.

“Sorry,” George said, handing the map back. “We'll walk you to class, don't worry you won't get lost. We just want to know who your mother was. We think she made another map you see, one with some of Hogwarts’ hidden passages.”

Fred gave his brother a panicked look as though to communicate they should not be telling her this.

“My mother's name was Olivia.” Jamie replied cautiously “But I doubt it will help much, the handwriting isn't hers and she always said she was hopeless for directions.”

George plugged on ahead with his questions while nodding for them to resume walking with a “Defence class, right?”.

“Okay so maybe a friend made it for her? Do you know any of her friends' names from school?”

“No.” Jamie lied, hoping simple answers and watching her footing on the stairs would help add more believability. She really hated lying.

“What year did she finish school?” asked Fred.

“Don't know,” lied Jamie. This was getting close to dangerous.

“What? How?” exclaimed Fred.

Jamie shrugged, doing her best to appear nonchalant. “I was eight when she died. I didn't know I would be getting a pop quiz three years later on my first day of school.”

George sent another look at his brother before asking “What about your dad? Most people meet their partners at school.”

They were almost at the classroom she just needed to say something to get away. She really didn't know anything about the map but if these boys were interested in it and they found anything about her mother it could mean trouble.

“I'm German,” said Jamie. “And I have no idea who my father is or how my mother met him. She never talked about him.” Jamie looked them both in the eyes now, intent on having them drop the questioning. 

It wasn’t entirely truthful, she knew a fair bit about her father but that seemed a short walk off a long pier in terms of dangerous information to offer, even if she, herself knew little about the man himself.

She knew her mother had left her father to protect him during the tail end of the war. She knew she was born about seven and a half months later and that sometimes she heard her mother crying late at night despite putting muffling charms on the door. But her mother had never brought him up, if Jamie asked about him there were short, impersonal bits of information, like how Jamie resembled him a fair bit. Before Father’s Day every year, her mother had contacted her school and Jamie would colour in or draw while the other children made cards.

Jamie stuffed her map back into her pocket and nodded to the boys before entering the class without a backwards glance.

~ ~ ~

Gilderoy Lockhart stood in front of the classroom blackboard, his name chalked out in huge, elaborate letters and on his desk stood a large, framed picture of himself. The wall behind his desk held magazine and newspaper clippings of himself as well.

Jamie took one look at the man and his over-white smile and promptly scuttled to the very back of the classroom as everyone filed in. She noticed most of the girls took front row seats, their full set of books positioned as perfectly straight on the corner of their desks as possible. It almost seemed like two girls were having a contest as to who had the glitteriest ink pots and fluffiest quills. Jamie took out her notepad and pen before, noticing everyone was taking out their book sets, she piled hers on the floor beside her desk for easy reach.

She had seen posters about this man in Diagon Alley in advance of his release of another book, and judging by how he had decorated the classroom, Jamie guessed this was likely one of the professors who would be droning on for a fair old bit of each lesson. She swiftly margined her next few pages of note paper and readied the dictation quill in preparation.

Luna walked in looking as though she was in a different world entirely, with only her shadow left in this dimension, but after a quick wave from Jamie, she joined her in the back corner. She too placed the veritable mountain of books on the floor beside her desk and took out some pages of parchment, a quill and inkwell and then a sketchpad and charcoal set.

When everyone had seated themselves, the Professor stepped forward and knocked loudly on a front-row desk for silence and grinned broadly when he got it

“Good morning children!” he exclaimed. “As I am sure you all know, I am Gilderoy Lockhart,” he said, pointing at the board and winking at the class. “Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award, but I don't talk about that. I didn't get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her!"  
He paused for effect and winked at some girls in the first row who had tittered out a laugh which seemed to please him immensely and Jamie wondered exactly how many times this week he was going to use the exact same line..

"I see you've all bought a complete set of my books - well done!” he continued patronizingly. “Now I thought we'd start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about - just to check how well you've read them, how much you've taken in, I figured it was most sensible to start every year off with the same quiz, see who is most likely to excel." a few Hufflepuff girls seemed delighted while some of the Ravenclaws seemed about to crack their knuckles and click their necks ready for a nice mental challenge. 

Jamie looked over at Luna who just shrugged, unconcerned. Jamie had tried to read the books, she really had but they were kind of awful. Of course, the actual things he did were impressive and he was no doubt a rather powerful wizard for Dumbledore to have chosen him to teach them how to defend themselves, but there was just so much gratuitous self-idolatry filler that the books themselves seemed a rather poor choice of instructional material, given how there was no or very little actual instruction on how he did anything. A few of the books she had found in her vault were far more interesting.

When he had handed out the test papers he returned to the front of the class and said, "You have thirty minutes - start - now!"

Jamie was used to having to wing it for tests, despite her best efforts there were just some days she couldn’t concentrate long enough to get any thorough studying done. But she was fairly certain that the reading she had done of her ancestor’s textbooks would at least help a little in making up for details she missed in all the waffling of Lockhart’s books. But as Jamie looked down at the test, three sides of paper in all, she grew more and more irritated and disbelieving. The test had nothing at all to do with defending against the dark arts and absolutely everything to do with Professor Lockhart and his very clearly inflamed ego.

Jamie tried to shake herself, tried to trawl through all 54 questions for something, anything relevant. Some questions she did actually know the answer to because she remembered being interested in how in “Wanderings with Werewolves” he had specifically mentioned his ideal birthday gift would be “harmony between all magic and non-magic peoples” followed by some rather derogatory comments about disagreeing with the change of categorising werewolves from beasts to being when they are untransformed, when in his opinion, they were clearly beasts full time. Similarly, in “Marauding with Monsters” he made several references to the limited sentience of gnomes and elves. Jamie had wondered at the time, exactly which magical people he had been referring to aside from generic wizardkind. He seemed fairly accepting of Veelas in some divergent quip or other but other than that…

She noted down the few answers she knew the answers to. Keeping your head down and trying to go with the flow was what her mother and Mr Pilchard had always tried to instil in her, but this test grated on every fibre of Jamie’s being. She NEEDED to learn to defend herself.

Jamie took a slow calming breath before looking over at Luna who had seemingly not even noticed the quiz and was instead doodling in her sketchbook.

There was a small voice in the back of Jamie’s head that beggingly whispered for her to just let this go, even as she raised her hand.

Professor Lockhart seemed to be admiring himself in a mirror he had on his desk where one would normally expect a teacher would keep images of friends or family, so it took a while before he even noticed Jamie’s hand.

“Finished early have you?” asked Professor Lockhart cheerily, striding forward. 

“Err… no, not exactly, sir,” said Jamie awkwardly. “It’s just… I wanted to know what this test had to do with Defence Against the Dark Arts?”

You could have heard a pin drop in the room, the girls up in the front had turned to stare open-mouthed at her sheer audacity for asking such a question. One boy covered his face to try and hide his silent laughter, even Luna looked up from her sketching to look at Jamie, an odd sort of contemplative look on her face. Lockhart seemed to break himself out of his stupor by giving a very loud, rather forced laugh, even wiping at the corner of his eye as though it had been so funny as to induce tears.

“We have ourselves a joker, everyone! Ooh hoo hoo. Good one!”

Jamie frowned and was just about to say she hadn’t been joking when Luna grabbed her hand under the desk and almost imperceptibly shook her head.

Lockhart deemed it about time to begin collecting up the tests, he paused at Jamie and Luna’s table and gave Jamie a rather flat almost glare as he flicked deliberately through Jamie’s test.

“Humour is a wonderful thing, though it should not be used in lieu of proper academic form. I won’t take points for your rather insolent remarks, but only because it is your first day.” He said in an undertone that could only be heard by their table before he turned a beaming smile on Luna, which then fell just as instantly when he saw her completely untouched test.

Luna had a distant and dreamy sort of look in her eyes as she wafted a hand gently through the air and gave an airy little laugh. “Sylphlings! Oh, how pretty,” she said happily.

Several students laughed openly. Lockhart looked entirely flummoxed and as though he were about to comment but thought better of it at another of Luna’s airy laughs at the general nothingness of the classroom air. He turned around.

Lockhart made his way to the front and began praising some students who had performed particularly well as well as bemoaning how few of them knew his favourite colour was violet. Jamie took the opportunity to lean over to Luna and whisper.

“I thought Sylphlings were only born in early Spring… aren’t they also meant to be tiny but visible.”

Luna paused in wafting her hand through the supposedly Sylph-filled air to turn a much more alert and aware pair of eyes on Jamie.

“They are,” she said simply. “I just really wanted him to go away. Daddy says Professor Lockhart was a troublesome attention seeker at school, always boasting about having a great-great-grandmother or something who was Veela. Daddy also read a few of his books, said the more believable stories in Marauding with Monsters seemed an awful bit too similar to stories his pen pal sent regarding some research for the Quibbler, that’s the magazine my father publishes.”

Jamie stared. “You think he plagiarized research?”

Luna looked back at Jamie. “I’m not sure. I know it won’t do to go making accusations or getting on his bad side. He is a teacher after all, but I also know my father helped his Care of Magical Creatures teacher once for a younger class’s lesson on Fae creatures and Lockhart ripped the wings off some fairies and mocked them about it.”

Jamie looked horrified “I know having their wings removed doesn’t hurt them physically, but that’s horrible, they always take such pride in their wings.” Jamie glared venomously at the professor who was perched on the edge of his desk, re-enacting some dramatic tale that was no-doubt entirely about himself.

“How do you know so much about fairies and Sylphlings by the way?” asked Luna.

“Oh, I uh… I speak Fae actually, some fairies and such always used to talk to me when I went for runs in the morning near the woods near where I live.”

Luna looked very impressed. “Do you think any would talk to you here at Hogwarts?”

“I don’t know,” said Jamie, giving a little shrug, “It’s possible, I didn’t see any this morning when I was out but I wasn’t near the woods, maybe they like it closer to the tree line.”

“Do you run every morning?” asked Luna. 

Jamie nodded, “Often in the evenings too.”

Luna nodded pensively. “Can I come? I’m not much of a runner but I sometimes go for walks around the garden back home.”

“Sure,” said Jamie. “I’m normally up at six and out by six-thirty."

Luna nodded again. “It won’t help, you know.” At Jamie’s confused look she nodded back to the front where Lockhart was still dramatically re-enacting. “Calling him out. He’ll teach what he’ll teach. All you’ll do by pointing out his vanity is make him angry and then you’ll just have a teacher who hates you.”

Jamie frowned, the small voice in Jamie’s head that was always telling her to be careful was shouting agreement at Luna’s words. “I guess I know that. In theory at least. It’s just that this is Defence Against the Dark Arts, it’s kind of supposed to be one of the most important subjects, I mean there was a war going on a decade ago where a whole lot of people died, unable to defend themselves from a bunch of dark wizards, and before that was Grindelwald. Seems to me like it shouldn’t be the sort of subject to give to someone like him.”

Luna nodded. “Maybe we can teach ourselves, then. Ask older students who did well in the subject if they have their old notes.”

“That might be an idea. We can ask Professor McGonagall. She seems nice if a bit strict. She’s likely to know which students to ask.”

Their attention was drawn back to the front of the room, it seemed Lockhart was finished with his dramifications and was calling attention to a large domed something that he had pulled up on his desk, whatever it was, was covered with curtain-like fabric.

“NOW,” said Lockhart, “this will be a real treat for a first lesson and I only have them because my second-year class is right after lunch, but I must trust you all to the utmost secrecy, wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise for them, now would we?” The front two rows shook their heads violently and one even mimed locking her lips and throwing away the key which earned her a dazzling smile and a wink from Lockhart.

“I must ask you all to stay calm, don’t scream, don’t make a sound.” He waited until the whole room had silenced in anticipation. Luna and Jamie exchanged looks and quirked eyebrows.

The tarp was pulled back revealing a large brass cage filled to bursting with shrieking blue Cornish pixies.

The class seemed delighted, a few seemed to shunt their seats backwards in fear. Lockhart was just reassuring them all that while not specifically dangerous, pixies were devilishly tricky and mischievous and began asking students what they remembered from his chapter on pixies in Marauding with Monsters when Luna noticed Jamie’s fists clamped tightly on the edge of the desk, her knuckles going white.

“Are you alright, Jamie?” whispered Luna while Lockhart wasn’t looking.

“They haven’t got any water,” said Jamie tightly.

Luna peered back at the cage and noticed that while there was what appeared to be a bird or rodent style water bottle, it was completely empty. One pixie seemed to be trying to pull at the bottle, shake it as though to maybe shake a drop or so out.

“They are crammed in there so tightly that under that tarp they must be boiling. They’re saying they’ve been in there since early this morning.” Jamie continued; her voice sounded empty.

Luna looked from Jamie to the pixies, “Class will be ending soon, we can just go up and say we noticed the empty water bottle and read in his book how they tend to live near water.” She shook Jamie lightly, “they’ll be alright.”

Jamie nodded taking slow deep breaths until Lockhart had written something on the board and called for the class to be dismissed.

The class loaded up their enormous pile of books before beginning to disperse.

Taking yet another deep breath, Jamie pasted on her best confused and eager look to which Luna nodded, seemingly agreeing to the action and grabbed up her bag to follow Jamie to the front.

“Aha, the two from the back of the class!” said Lockhart, giving them a scrutinising look.

Jamie gave a very forced half-smile and responded. “Yes, sir… I um… read in your books that Cornish pixies are especially prone to living near water…”

This, it seemed, was exactly the right thing to say to send Lockhart right back into musing about the wonder that was himself.

“Why yes, yes indeed. I found these ones down by a little stream near the woods this morning. Devilish little things, nearly bit my ears off.”

“Umm… yes, sir, I just… well, I noticed there was the water bottle… and that it was empty and was just wondering if maybe they were thirsty.” Jamie clenched her jaw and tried to focus on her breathing.

“Merlin’s Baggy Y Fronts! You’re right! Let’s see, let’s see. If I can get this contraption off, odd cage this, found it in lost and found in one of the staffroom cupboards, expanded as I was adding more pixies, dead useful.”

Jamie stepped toward the cage, “I can get that, my old school had a classroom hamster, so I know how to do the water.”

“Ah! Muggleborn. That explains it!” said Lockhart.

“Pureblood, actually,” said Jamie icily. Lockhart looked very confused and was about to ask when Luna called his attention to a question about something from his book.

Jamie leaned in close to the cage as she unlatched the water bottle and began filling it with her own water bottle. The pixies were chittering excitedly, reaching out through the bars towards the water.

Quickly checking Lockhart was occupied, she leaned in close, it wasn't easy to whisper in Fae, but she hoped the pixies' general clamour would cover the higher-pitched vowels.

“He said he’s releasing you all into the classroom an hour from now. The windows shouldn’t be difficult to open, just lift that metal bar,” she said pointing discreetly over her shoulder.

The pixies examined the window latch and nodded. Jamie fixed the water bottle to the side of the cage. The smaller pixies all rushed for the bottle, desperately thirsty. Jamie looked up and glared at the back of Lockhart’s head before shoving her own water bottle nozzle into the cage as well, locking eyes with the largest two pixies who seemed in charge of directing the others. “Give him hell!” she whispered. The pixies nodded ever so slightly, chirping to the others as the pixie mass all started sating themselves with water. Jamie snuck a muesli bar from her pocket through the bars before taking her now empty water bottle from the bars.

Luna had done a good job distracting Lockhart; he was full swing into a monologue about a banshee and heading for the classroom door but paused to tell Jamie to cover the cage over with the canvas before continuing the conversation.

Jamie clenched her fists and whispered apologies to the pixies as she covered the cage, making certain to keep the side facing away from the class as uncovered as possible. 

~ ~ ~

Luna and Jamie scuttled into the Great Hall side by side talking about everything from Fae creatures to as yet undiscovered beasts. While Jamie was a little sceptical about the complete lack of scientific method the Lovegoods seemed to follow with their theories, it was incredibly interesting to just speculate and keep an open mind about possibilities.

They walked down the centre of the hall, between their two houses tables and Jamie noticed several students in their year group looking at Luna and giggling. Whispered words floated past, “...Loony…”, “...parsnip earrings…” etc. It was particularly bad at the Ravenclaw table where a couple of girls pulled their bags up onto the long bench beside them as though to ward off any spaces Luna might sit down in for lunch.

Jamie interrupted her friend’s idle musings about why nifflers are attracted to gold and what they do with it once they have it to ask: “Luna, do you know if there are any rules against students of different houses sitting together at meals. I know it says you have to sit with your house on feast days, but I don’t think it said anything else on the matter.”

Luna looked thoughtful for a moment before replying “I don’t think there is anything else on the matter.” She didn’t seem to have even noticed the girls of her own house whispering to each other. Jamie threw them a glare before standing up on her tippy toes to spot a gap in her own house’s table before grabbing Luna’s hand and pulling her along to a nice reasonably quiet spot near the teacher’s dais end of the hall.

They were each just tucking into sandwiches when Professors Dumbledore and Flitwick moved passed them talking animatedly to one another. Professor Dumbledore stopped in his place, halting in his conversation to look at the girls and merrily said “I was not aware that blue was one of the Hufflepuff colours.” he nodded at Luna’s tie.

Jamie looked frantically from the Professors to Luna and back. “I read that we had to sit with our houses for feasts, sir, but it didn’t say anything about normal meals.”

Luna began getting up, but Dumbledore merely waved her back down into her seat. “Quite right, Miss Schwarz. I will have to write to the publishers of Hogwarts: A History to have them clarify that inter-house friendships are welcomed and even encouraged. I must say, it is refreshing to see, just doesn’t happen very often. I can’t even recall the last time it did.” Dumbledore was giving Jamie a rather strange look, as though he very much could recall exactly the last time it had happened but wasn’t able to speak of it.

Professor Flitwick, however, piped up immediately with, “There was a girl in my house, oh must have been well over a decade ago now since she left the school, she had friends in all the houses, used to hop from one table to the next throughout the week… Merlin’s beard, can’t remember her name, for the life of me!”

Dumbledore’s measured look never left Jamie and she felt her ears grow hot. She gave him a tight-lipped smile and ducked her head down back to her sandwich, hoping that Flitwick’s memory regarding names also meant he didn’t end up thinking Jamie looked strikingly similar to the girl he was just trying to recall in any way other than a knack for inter-house friendships.

Dumbledore lead Flitwick, who was still listing out names of passed students and shaking his head when they didn’t match what he was looking for, up to the staff table, leaving the girls in peace.

Jamie had rather lost her appetite a little at the almost-mention of her mother and Luna seemed to pick up on this instantly, “You alright?” she asked.

Jamie shook herself and bit into her sandwich. “Yeah, fine.” Jamie lied, not making eye contact. “What lesson do you have next?”

Fortunately, Luna seemed to drop the questioning, although Jamie got the feeling that she stored away all sorts of information, even things that didn’t make sense.

“Double Herbology.” She answered, “You?”

“Double Charms,” said Jamie.

“Ooh I had a charms lesson first thing today!” said Luna and began explaining her introductory lesson and what parts of the curriculum she was looking forward to.

“That is pretty cool! It’ll be the first practical lesson I’ve had all day. Herbology seems interesting too, I met Professor Sprout on my run this morning. She asked me to help her carry bandages for a tree.”

“Bandaging a tree, what for?” asked Luna curiously.

“You know that flying car we saw over the lake last night? Well, it crashed into this big, valuable tree called the Whomping Willow. Really weird tree that, seems semi-sentient. And it can attack people too, but Professor Sprout just dodged the attacks and told it off like it was having a tantrum.”

Soon enough the girls separated and began making their way to their respective classes, Jamie showing Luna her mother’s map so she could more easily find her way outside before Jamie began climbing stairs, headed for the third-floor chams corridor that overlooked the quidditch pitch.

Jamie honestly wondered why on earth the school was so vast and spread out, despite having so few actual in-use classrooms and wondered idly if the magical population had vastly dwindled over time, or if in the past it was more like how at Hampton Court Palace, that the Harrises had taken Jamie to see once, each occupant of the castle had their own extensive chambers and quarters. Perhaps, in the beginning, it was far more like how noblemen used to send their children to other nobles courts, perhaps the founders had only each taught a handful of students and then after that, each student was given quarters in order to pursue independent study, she would have to ask during History of Magic.

The Charms classroom was already bustling and filling up with Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs when Jamie arrived and she peered around looking for a spot, eventually finding one at the back next to Ginny from the train and just behind Colin. She smiled over at her desk mate who was scribbling in her diary when she walked in.

“Hello again, it’s Ginny, right? She asked.

Ginny jumped in her seat a little and closed the diary immediately, shoving it into her robe pocket before nodding at Jamie. “Umm… Yeah. You’re James, right?”

“Jamie, but yeah. Mind if I sit here? I figure Charms is the sort of lesson you don’t really want anyone behind you, in case something blows up.” Jamie joked lightly.

Ginny seemed distracted but nodded and Jamie began taking out her things. When she sat down, she realised Ginny was tuned into what Colin seemed to be animatedly telling a group of his fellow Gryffindors.

“...Saw him just now with that blond professor, the one who assigned the huge number of books…” There were impressed mutterings from the crowd and a good deal of muffling of Colin’s next words “... didn’t get the chance to sign an autograph…” but whatever had been said Ginny seemed to hear and whatever they had been talking about had her angry.

She stood and leaned over her desk to prod Colin’s shoulder. “Harry isn’t some… circus animal or something! Do you think he enjoys being famous for having his parents murdered? You embarrassed him, and in front of that awful Malfoy too!”

Colin looked a little stunned by the sudden chastisement but a girl next to her laughed in Ginny’s face. “Oh, come off it, Ginny!” she said. “I saw you writing in your diary last night. You fancy Harry Potter. Isn’t he your brother’s best friend? Anyway, you just don’t want Harry to be given attention that isn’t yours. I’ll give you that he is proper fit, but that’s no need to be rude to Colin.”

Ginny turned pale and then beet red and began to stutter. “I… I don’t… ERGGG that’s not the point! You still shouldn’t -”

But she was cut off from whatever she was going to say by Professor Flitwick clearing his throat loudly to start the lesson. Ginny sank back down into her seat. She looked both mortified and mightily pissed off. 

Jamie leaned over and whispered. “Don’t mind them. It was wrong of her to say that and Colin is… well… excited, about everything, but he means no harm really.”

Ginny clenched her jaw and peered at Jamie. “He came to stay with us this summer. I could barely speak two words to him the whole time and I feel like an ass because he was having a rough time at home. His aunt and uncle hate magic, had him locked in his room. I just… I can’t talk to him, I like him and think he’s really sweet but I can’t talk to him, I get all stuttery and I just don’t like how everyone seems to have been gushing on and on about him and the night his parents died, who does that?”

Jamie smiled slightly, amused to see the girl who apparently couldn’t say two words to the boy, spilling her heart about her genuine concern for him to an almost stranger.

“I can’t really relate,” whispered Jamie with a smile, “I’ve been told it’s damn near impossible to get me to shut up. But… you seem to really care. If I hear anyone else talking about him like he’s some kind of celebrity I’ll mention how tactless it is because of his parents… and I’ll try talking to Colin, but as I said, he’s just excited about school and everything. He’s Muggleborn so it’s all new.”

Ginny nodded a quiet thanks and began taking notes.

Charms, as it turned out was not nearly as fun when everyone in the class was doing better than you.

For the first session Jamie’s “Lumos” produced everything from barely-there glows to flickering light of vastly variant intensities. Everyone else seemed to just have a bit of a struggle mastering the pronunciation or the wrist motion and then they were all producing a nice, mid-intensity light that was all fairly uniform. Jamie was incredibly embarrassed when not only was she the only caster whose result was different but so vastly different that even Flitwick seemed curious, as though this was some interesting new concept to explore.

It only got worse when, as the rest of the class all had nice, perfectly maintained wand lights, they moved on to “Nox.” When Jamie first attempted the spell two of the students in front of her had THEIR lights snuffed out instead of the spell working on her own wand. The second time she attempted it the dim, flickering light at the end of her wand did snuff out but it wasn’t much of a relief.

As the class packed up to head out for the end of their first day of school, Jamie heard Professor Flitwick say the one thing no first-year wants to hear so early in the year “Stay behind a moment please, Miss Schwarz.”

Ginny gave her a somewhat comforting look as she scuttled past and Jamie flumped her head onto the desk, her black wavy hair covering her very red, very mortified face, even if the red tips of her ears likely still gave as much away.

“Mr Olivander, the wand-seller from Diagon Alley actually sent me a letter a few weeks back about you, you know?” said Professor Flitwick kindly once everyone had left.

That got Jamie’s attention, she peaked up at the professor who stood beside her desk, he gave a reassuring smile. “I think I might know what the problem is.”

“You do?” asked Jamie.

“Mhmm,” replied Flitwick. “You see, Mr Olivander told me your mother used to have you practice wand motions and incantations with a stick. Is that so?” Jamie nodded.

“Why? I mean I suppose she thought it might help you be more accurate at school but there are reasons children under eleven aren’t taught spells.”

Jamie sighed. “I grew up in very muggle centric areas. My mother said that from a very young age I was producing a lot of quite noticeable accidental magic. After one particularly memorable incident where I was playing hide and go seek with some muggle children and somehow caused a large collection of tree roots to hide me and ended up stuck there for hours while my mother had to pretend I must have found some way of wiggling my way in under them, she asked the only other witch in the village for suggestions.”

“The idea was that if I learned the wand motions and pronunciations as almost a meditative chant of some sort to direct my magic into a specified form but with only a regular stick which would block the magic from actually taking form, that it would be safer.” Jamie gulped and gave a slight shrug. “It did work, I barely had any other incidents of accidental magic after that. So much so that at one-point mum was worried she had somehow suppressed my magic and turned me into a squib or something. I sent a letter to Dumbledore asking him to check if I would even get into Hogwarts when I was eight and he said I would, but…” Jamie gave another shrug and held back a sniffle, it had really been a pretty horrific lesson.

“Miss Schwarz, I don’t think that your mother’s lessons have suppressed your magical abilities,” said Professor Flitwick kindly, “Mr Olivander did tell me about how even wrapping dragon heartstring around the outside of the stick you produced an effect. It seems to me as though that stick became bonded to you like a wand that had been in the service of a wizard for a number of years, it responds to your will intuitively, but you see, children aren’t usually taught wand motions and incantations younger than eleven because they aren’t able to mentally connect the flow of their magic to what they want the magic to do. We have wand motions and incantations as a short-hand sort of language for our intentions, whereas you can perform those motions and incantations flawlessly, but mentally you are not connecting them with your intent or flow of magic.”

Jamie tried to follow. “Like… sort of like learning to pronounce foreign language words outside their context and with no clue as to their meaning, sir?”

“Yes! Wonderful analogy! Yes, no one could ever fault the way you are enunciating, but the meaning just isn’t connected.”

“But… How do I connect them, back together, sir?” asked Jamie.

“Well, I’d imagine practice and focusing on each element of the spell will help, also perhaps if you switch wand hands just for the spells you are over-familiar with. So that it feels new and alien to be practising and you have to pay attention to it. Just until you become used to the sensation.” he said cheerily.

Jamie nodded, “I can certainly do that, sir.”

“Excellent!” replied Flitwick, “Now to your other problem.”

Jamie paused. “What other problem, sir.”

“Your second wand, of course,” said Flitwick as though this should have been obvious. “Mr Olivander told me he made the stick into another wand for you, said he was concerned that because it was so closely bonded with your intent but up until now could not channel magic, that it would have absolutely no sense of moderation.”

Jamie looked confused so Flitwick tried “It’ll be every spell in the most extreme form that spell could take, and the only possible way to get around that, for it would seem a waste to not use a wand so perfectly attuned to you, would be to practice in safe, supervised environments. With one wand you are focussing on pushing your intent into the motion while the other you will need to learn to control your exact flow of magic. Strong magic is exhausting to maintain, but I feel strongly as though these two focused lessons will indeed help you. Most of wizardkind do not learn such moderating influences until much later in life, this will certainly be an interesting thing for me to observe and research and no doubt helpful for you.”

“Alright,” said Jamie, “how will we practice?”

“Well,” replied Flitwick “My open hours are always in this hour before dinner. They won’t become occupied until much later in the term when everyone realises exams are coming, so, after every lesson when we learn a new spell, you can come here and I can explain possible dangers of that spell in its extreme format and set up some safety parameters if necessary, we then practice until it seems like you are safe enough to practice on your own. With any luck, by the end of the year, you will be able to feel the ebb and flow of your magic intuitively enough to not require supervision. I do suggest, however, that you continue to use your current wand in lessons, much better for learning to direct specific intent.”

Jamie nodded.

“Right then, if you have your second wand, I am curious to find out exactly what happens when a light charm is used in the extreme.”

Jamie chuckled at his enthusiasm. “Not worried about going blind, sir?”

“The pursuit of knowledge is fraught with possible dangers, miss Schwarz, never forget that,” he said jokingly.

Jamie took out the Blackthorn wand, it seemed to buzz happily in her palm and Jamie could honestly say she had missed practising with it, its familiar shape sat comfortingly in her palm. Flitwick nodded he was ready, and Jamie took a breath.

“Lumos,” she said. The light danced instantly from the tip and grew at an exponential rate of, filling the room, reaching even the most shadowy corners. Jamie heard a disgruntled meow and noticed Bast was sat under a desk, thoroughly outed from her hiding place by the ever-increasing light.

“Use Nox now, hurry! Or we really might go blind!” said Flitwick. The light was becoming unbearable, and it was a good thing the wand motions were second nature to her because she could not look at the wand as she cast.

“Nox!” she called, and the whole room went utterly black. There was the weird red afterimage of light burned to the back of Jamie’s retinas as she tried to adjust to the darkness. There was still light coming from outside as evening began drawing in, but her charm had seemingly extinguished all of the classroom lights as well.

Professor Flitwick chuckled and at Jamie’s questioning gaze explained “That wasn’t quite as bad as the worst-case scenario in my head. Light, after all, can easily change to heat. And yet, nothing is on fire.” He tapped a stack of papers on his desk, “Although, having said that, the papers are rather warm. Let’s go and light the room lamps and give everything a chance to cool before trying again.”

And try again they did, over and over until dinner time when Professor Flitwick decreed that she “probably” wouldn’t cause any damage practising on her own from now on but that he wanted to see her progress later that week before they started a new spell.

That night, Jamie clambered towards bed, bone-tired despite having not gone for an evening run. As she got under her covers, she was glad to notice how the lights in the hall glimmered lowly under her door. She had always considered it stupid that she was afraid of the dark. Dr Clarson said it was to be expected, that eight years old was usually when children deal with considering horrors that were outside of their control, like monsters in the dark, and that losing her mother in a way she could not control was bound to have an impact. Still, she thought, now she had two weapons against the dark, an over-enthusiastic wand and a cat that did not share her shadowy territory with other monsters. Jamie smiled to herself as she ran her fingers through Bast’s silk-soft fur and fell asleep.


	16. Good Investments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a strange chapter, I guess. I know it's been a while since the last chapter, basically the general shittiness of life happened so this was kind of me clawing my way back into the writing, it's not an exciting chapter but I wanted to show Jamie beginning to settle in at Hogwarts.  
> Also, this chapter does talk about periods. I love works of fiction with female main characters that don't shy away from the messiness of menstruation because it is literally just a part of life for most girls and women and it often is a point in life that brings girls together when they put aside their differences just to unite and help each other. But I wanted to just mention it as a note in case people genuinely find the concept weird.
> 
> Some people will find it weird that my character seems to enjoy history of magic, it's mostly because I find it bizarre that J.K. Rowling makes it seem as though NO ONE likes the subject. It's a little shout out to myself and my history nerd friends.

Early on Wednesday morning, Jamie wrote a letter to the Harrises, she found she had to write it twice, once to say everything she wanted to say and the second to edit out anything that indicated Hogwarts was anything but a very ordinary boarding school. She jokingly commented on which subjects she liked best, which teachers the Harrises themselves probably would have liked, specifically how Mr Harris would no doubt have enjoyed the dry humour of her first “History” lesson as Professor Binns had started the lesson with the statement: “Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it. Specifically, in this room, at 5 pm on Thursdays. Take out your books now please.” 

Professor Binns had a near medically monotonous voice, which Jamie assumed should be considered reasonable given how he was dead, but his subject was actually incredibly interesting. It was one of the subjects in which she used the magical dictation quill, which helped considerably in getting past zoning out the Professor’s droll tones, and it meant she could spend the lesson time avidly reading her textbook, which was interesting, while not missing any important information.

Once she had finished her letter home she put it in an envelope with the Harris’ address and a stamp before putting that in a secondary envelope addressed to Mr Pilchard along with his own letter which was fairly brief but at least she could talk about magic. She had briefly outlined the wand curiosity and considered mentioning the Weasley twins and their questions before deciding against it. Mr Pilchard would probably do something extreme like try and obliviate them just for asking her who her mother was, despite no harm being done. If they kept digging, she would pass on the message.

Next, she sent a brief message to Kargrot the Goblin from Gringotts, letting him know she had arrived in Hogwarts and now could accept correspondence regarding finances and the possibility of a business arrangement regarding her grandmother’s galleon sorting invention as well as asking who to direct correspondence regarding ongoing financial advice.

Luna had begun meeting Jamie the previous morning and so after a quick stop at the owlery, they took a brief run towards the Forbidden Forest. Luna found a nice tree stump, happy enough to sit and watch the sunrise and the early morning birds while Jamie continued running for a bit.

It felt good to run. While the castle was vast and offered ample opportunity for general exercise the halls were either long, drafty corridors full of autumnal blustering winds or they were classrooms and dormitories with the windows shut tight and fires raging to keep everybody warm. Sometimes it felt like the rooms were running out of oxygen. It was good to be able to feel the pull and push of her muscles, hear her heartbeat pumping warm blood around her, keeping her warm while still enjoying the fresh breeze on her face and arms. She idly wondered what she would do when snow hit. When deep drifts would prevent her from gadding about, but quidditch was never cancelled even in bad weather, so she supposed she would find a way too.

When her breathing became heavy and her muscles wonderfully warm and loose, she trotted back to where Luna sat. She had a sketchbook out and was trying to capture the look of a fairy sitting on a mushroom. These fairies were not yet as comfortable with Jamie’s company like the ones back home, but they had heard from the Cornish Pixies that Professor Lockhart had captured that she was trustworthy and so they no longer flew off in a tizzy in the presence of the two girls but rather continued their day uninterrupted by the girls who quietly sat and watched them.

“We could bring them some milk sometimes,” said Jamie, “maybe then they'll sit still for a portrait or tell us the latest Fae news.”

Luna murmured her ascent and the girls continued to sit quietly until their stomachs broke the silence for them and they packed up to head to breakfast, and for Jamie to get ready for Herbology.

~ ~ ~

Jamie slipped into the bathroom hurriedly. She had gone into hyper-focus mode with one of her textbooks and now lunch was almost over. She had only about five minutes before her next lesson on the other side of the castle.

It wasn’t until she had locked the bathroom stall that she heard the sniffle of muted crying from the stall next to hers.

“Umm… Are you alright?” asked Jamie, a little awkwardly addressing the stall wall.

A startled gasp responded, followed by “I’m fine, leave me alone!”

“Sorry,” said Jamie. “You just sounded upset is all.”

“Well, I’m not. Can you please just leave?” the voice responded icily.

“Can’t at the moment. Bit busy.”

There was a pause and then a snort followed shortly by what seemed more like a choked-back sob. “I don’t know what to do.” the voice whispered.

Well, that was an odd thing to say. “About what?” asked Jamie.

“The blood.” came the reply. She was definitely crying now. “Aunt… Aunt Agatha said this would happen, but she didn’t say it would be this bad, or what to do when it did.”

“Blood?” said Jamie, “Are you hurt? Do you need me to take you to Madam Pomf- Wait… bathroom blood… did… did your period start?” The little chat she had had with Mrs Harris came back to her now.

The girl in the next stall only blew her nose as a response. “I… I would go to Madam Pomfrey, but I don’t… It… It got everywhere.”

Jamie realised the girl’s meaning. “Oh… OH! Right, yeah… my foster mum said that happens sometimes.”

“Your foster mum talked to you about this happening?”

“Mhmm” Jamie responded awkwardly. “Told me she used to keep extra supplies in her bag in case she ever met someone caught out.”

“She sounds nice… wait… Supplies?” the voice asked curiously.

“Oh yeah, she showed me a range of them. See some people apparently prefer using some stuff rather than others.” Said Jamie.

“Aunt Agatha just told me this was what marked a girl’s passage into womanhood. Said all the women in our family started quite young… What do the supplies do?”

“Oh, um… right…” said Jamie scrambling in her bag for the little tin case Mrs Harris had given her before carefully sliding it under the partition. “That’s a maxi pad. It um… soaks stuff up. There are pictures on the inside of the tin. Apparently, other women prefer tampons which are like little tubes of cotton you shove up… well… um… anyway…” Jamie coughed awkwardly. “Feel free to use that one until you can get to Madam Pomfrey.”

“Um… thanks. I’ve never even heard of these before, I always assumed there was just some sort of potion.” there were noises of plastic crackling and shuffling around until the tin was passed back under the partition.

“Oh,” said Jamie. “I’m not actually sure what they use here. My foster mother is muggle you see, parents were wizardkind, but I got the talk from my foster mum.”

“Oh… right.” There was a note of hesitation. “Dad probably wouldn’t like to hear about me using something Muggle.”

“It’s just a bit of cotton that sticks in the right place… besides, I’m not going to tell anyone,” said Jamie.

“... Thank you.”

They both exited their stalls at the same time and washed their hands in awkward silence. Jamie wasn’t too surprised to see the other girl’s tie was green and silver.

The girl met her gaze, cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but she pressed her lips into a thin line and muttered. “I thought… I’m worried it went through my skirt… can you check?”

Jamie awkwardly checked the girl’s skirt. “It did a little but the skirt’s dark, I doubt anyone will notice.”

This seemed to have been the wrong thing to say as the girl turned a bright shade of scarlet. “But they will notice, and then they’ll ask about it and maybe some idiot will write home saying I wet myself!” the girl wailed, panicking and wafting her hands and very nearly running back into her cubicle.

“Wait a second! I have an idea.” Jamie pulled off her school jumper. “Here, tie it around your waist,” Jamie said, holding out the jumper.

“How is that going to help?” The girl asked. Tying it around her waist regardless. “I look ridiculous.” 

“No you don’t, you look like you got too warm during lunch and tied your jumper around your waist so you don’t have to carry it, and it covers the stain. Madam Pomfrey can probably help with the rest and she can give the jumper to a house-elf to send back my way.”

“I suppose that could work.” the girl said sceptically. “What’s your name, anyway.”

“James Schwarz… although most people just call me Jamie,” said Jamie, reaching her hand out for an introductory shake.

The girl squinted at Jamie as if committing her face to memory. “Grace Yardley… Thank you, James. I’m in your debt.”

Jamie snorted and shook her hand laughing. “It’s just a jumper.”

“All the same…” said Grace with a little shrug.

The two girls parted and went off in their different directions, Jamie wasn’t even particularly bothered when she got the stink eye from Snape about being tardy to his lesson.


	17. Halloween

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been far too long since my last update but Coronavirus lockdown has me finally back at the desk. Hope you are all keeping safe and enjoy this chapter. :)

The days passed swiftly as everyone began settling into the new term. Jamie’s jumper had been returned to her dormitory room along with a small leaflet about magical and non-magical period supplies. As it turns out, Grace had been right to believe there was, in fact, a potion available but as it prevented periods entirely, they were only given to older students so as not to stunt hormonal development. Surprisingly, it seemed as though the wizarding community was all but reliant on muggle sanitary products or used cloth attachments that could be scourgified, in all Jamie thought she would stick to the muggle items when the time came.

After making some subtle enquiries with Professor McGonagall about who the best students were in the year above them, Jamie and Luna decided to approach Hermione Granger, seeing as how Jamie had at least met her on the train. What they hadn’t planned for was her emphatic belief that Lockhart was a wonderful teacher, however, after assuring her that they were looking to compile a set of notes from different year groups to compare first year defence over the last few years, she enthusiastically dug out her defence notes from the previous year, very neat notes kept meticulously in a concertina folder. Luna then made copies for each of them before returning Hermione’s notes. Professor McGonagall seemed to think a comparison was a very good idea and began sending older students to them, asking that they make copies and if possible, write a comparison report on the changes to the curriculum.

This meant, of course, that Luna and Jamie decided that in all, they were far better placed to ignore Lockhart’s “lessons” and instead compiled their own lesson plan for the year, including notes from former students, Jamie’s ancestor’s notes and their own library readings. At first, this seemed to chafe at Lockhart’s ego, however, after a few lessons of the two girls sitting quietly in the back of the room and not interrupting him with questions like: “How does your hair care routine have any relevance to defence against the dark arts?” (The answer being given by an affronted admiring girl in the front row who quipped that a bad hair day was one of the darkest dark arts possible.), he learned to ignore them just as they ignored him.

The term settled into a rhythm, with lessons in Herbology often connecting to information regarding potion ingredients, Jamie’s Charm work slowly improved and transfiguration lessons became less theoretical and more practical based. 

However, as September passed in a blur into October, the Scottish weather began to rebel against Jamie’s carefully structured days. The enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall which had shown off the dazzling star-speckled sky the first few nights of term now yielded only grey, cloudy skies, the constant rain turning the grass outside into a slippery muddy soup. The halls seemed draftier than usual and just about everyone in the castle was either sniffling piteously and denying being ill or marching around with smoke pouring out of their ears from a dosing of Pepper-up Potion.

After one too many slips on the wet grass during a run, Madam Pomfrey all but banned Jamie from running, forcing her to swallow a dose of Pepper-up for good measure. Jamie was miserable and twitchy. Professor Snape glowered and took points if he noticed Jamie’s attention wandering in lessons, Lockhart was too absorbed in re-enacting tales from his books to notice whether she was noting down his gleefully portrayed nonsense but after a lesson full of stern looks, Jamie was rather surprised when instead of detention, Professor McGonagall handed her a skipping rope at the end of a lesson.

“And don’t run in the corridors.” was the only addendum to the professor’s strange gift. “Students have been traipsing in so much mud and water it’s a wonder Mr Filch hasn’t started begging the Headmaster to reinstate thumbscrews just yet.”

Jamie hid her grateful smile from the Professor as she carefully tucked the skipping rope into her bag. Whichever undiagnosed ADHD students professor McGonagall had faced off with in her years of teaching had seemingly done such a thorough job of troublemaking as to prepare her for every eventuality, even torrential rain.

Both Luna and Jamie had been forced to take a mouthful of pepper-up potion before breakfast and their ears were still smoking by lunch-time, providing them with ample opportunity to devise ways of creating smoke trails and patterns as they took turns with the skipping rope under the shelter of the overhanging roof surrounding the quad.

Jamie was right in the middle of a rather impressive smoke spiral she had developed by skipping while switching from foot to foot each jump while turning her head when a voice interrupted her rhythm.

“What on earth are you doing, Schwartz?”

Jamie peered out from under her faded smoke spirals to spot Michael smirking down at her.

She was rather glad to see him given how he hadn’t spoken to her since the train and had seemed completely isolated from his housemates since the sorting.

Jamie sent him an answering smirk. “Making smoke patterns, wanna have a go?”

This prompted a snort from Michael. “Nah, I’m good, I have a healthy and perfectly functional immune system so don’t have smoke pouring from my ears.” He said, ironically while blowing his nose into a handkerchief.

Jamie laughed, “Alright then, suit yourself, Mr Functional immune system. Want to grab lunch? We haven’t gone in yet; I was trying to burn off some energy before potions.”

“Yeah, alright,” answered Michael.

When they arrived in the Great Hall Michael hesitated, looking over at the Slytherin table. A few boys from their year spotted the trio and began snickering amongst their group.

“What’s their problem?” asked Jamie, lightly tugging on both Luna and Michael’s sleeves, leading them towards the empty bit of Hufflepuff table that seemed to have become theirs in the last month.

Michael sighed and trudged along. “Nothing really, just a bunch of ponses who seem determined to believe that just cause both their parents are wizardfolk, that it somehow makes them better than me.”

Luna and Jamie pulled a face. “Are they all like that?” Luna asked while sitting down and grabbing a sandwich.

Michael shrugged, “The vocal ones are.”

From that day onward, Michael would sit with them for meals. He was quiet and contemplative, preferring to sit and read while the girls skipped or talked, but he could certainly hold his own in any discussion about potions. The prospect of having a friend to sit next to in almost every lesson was an added bonus in Jamie’s opinion. Jamie had continued sitting next to Ginny during lessons with Gryffindor, but the red head seemed to have withdrawn into herself and the seating plan was now settled.

It wasn’t until a few days before Halloween that Jamie even saw a glimpse of the fiery temper Ginny had shown off during their first Charms lesson. Her two older brothers, the twins had “liberated” a fire salamander from Care of Magical Creatures and fed the poor thing a firework “to see what would happen.”

Jamie didn’t get to see what actually happened to the Salamander that lunchtime. She looked up in time to see an angry Ginny hitting her two brothers over the head with a large textbook before, mid-strike she noticed Harry Potter laughing at the antics. She scurried out of the room after that. A few of the first year Gryffindors laughed as she fled, and Jamie thought she could see the girl’s ears turn as red as her hair.

~ ~ ~

Halloween morning dawned, the weather was chilly, and damp and Jamie knew without having to be told that a run would be out of the question this morning. She tried to make do with her skipping rope in a dry alcove of the castle away from all the dormitories and Filch’s office instead, waving a hello to Professor Sprout as she headed out toward the Greenhouses. Skipping didn’t seem quite enough, so Jamie then returned to her dormitory to hit her boxing bag for a good further half hour before heading to breakfast.

Everyone in the Great Hall were chattering enthusiastically about the upcoming Halloween Feast, Hagrid was busy carving pumpkins in a corner, large buckets of pumpkin filling were being removed by some house elves.

When Michael entered the hall, he was wearing his scarf and even his gloves, sitting down with a shiver, he helped himself to a mug of tea.

“You alright?” asked Jamie.

“Fine. Just cold.” He replied, “Apparently it’s the deathday party of Gryffindor’s house ghost tonight. There have been ghosts coming from all over the country and staying in the dungeons. That many ghosts hanging about makes the air down there absolutely freezing. Never mind the smell, they have been bringing stuff into the dungeons since last night, burnt stuff, rotting stuff, it’s grim. Bad enough that our dorm is under the lake, so we never see the sun even when it does come out, but do they have to host hundreds of ghosts down there too?” he asked, stabbing his fork into a piece of bacon with a little too much venom.

Jamie withheld a laugh, “A deathday party? Who would want to celebrate their own death?”

Michael shrugged, seemingly calmer now that he was warm and eating. “It’s apparently the 500th anniversary of the day or something, quite the big deal. I’d imagine a person could get over the trauma of dying after 500 years of being dead.”

Jamie looked quizzically up from her eggs. “If he died in 1492, why does he wear a ruff?”

“What do you mean?”

“Ruffs were like a mid-1500s onwards sort of thing, like with Shakespeare and Elizabeth the first’s court. Do you think Ghosts can change clothes? Like if he liked the fashion trend and picked it up over time?”

“Don’t know, I’d think the bloody baron would have changed out of the bloodstains if that were the case. Maybe he’s lying about his age, trying to spice up the dull afterlife.” Michael joked.

“Or he’s getting his facts out of order due to old age. I mean you would likely forget your brief life if you had been dead for so much longer than alive, wouldn’t you?”

The two shrugged and got back to their breakfasts while they waited for Luna who had donned a particularly autumnal inspired set of robes, oak call earrings included. She sat serenely musing and picking at a fruit salad until the post came in where they were all disturbed by multiple brown paper wrapped packages thumping down in front of Jamie.

Michael’s scrutinising gaze flicked from the packages to Jamie’s slowly blushing face before raising an eyebrow and flicking over one of the tags. “Hah! I knew you were a Scorpio, Snippy!”

Jamie rolled her eyes while pulling her packages away from him and feeding the owls that had brought them some bacon.

Luna looked puzzled for a moment before her face cleared. “It’s your birthday?” she asked.

Jamie sighed. “Yeah, I just don’t like making a big deal about it.”

“How come?” asked Michael, still looking as though he wanted to try and figure out what was in the packages. “I’m not saying the whole, black candles, hundreds of ghosts big celebration that SOME apparently like, but you only have one birthday a year, why not make a fuss?”

“It… just wasn’t the same without mum.” Said Jamie quietly. “It was never that big of a thing anyway, but mum, she loved researching muggle folklore stories and since it was Samhain, we created our own little traditions. Baked stuff, went to talk with the fairies and give them treats, had a picnic, stuff like that. Sometimes we would go out and make a huge bonfire and then we’d try and tell each other spooky stories and stuff. I guess it was weird, but yeah… the Harrises wouldn’t have liked it.”

“That sounds fun.” Said Luna, “We could probably take some sandwiches at lunch and sit in an abandoned classroom for a picnic?”

“Why are your packages in brown paper though?” asked Michael

“Hmm a picnic might be fun, I guess. As for the paper, mum always said that since we never knew what was coming in a year, good things and bad, mysterious packages of good should stay mysterious… or something like that. I think it was just the paper she had when I was younger, and it became a tradition.” replied Jamie.

“So, what did you get?” asked Michael curiously, nodding at the parcels.

Jamie rolled her eyes again but began opening her gifts. 

There was a small package of home baked ginger bread biscuits from Mr Harris, a large yellow jumper and some yellow and black striped socks which were, in fact hiding two mixed cassette tapes.

“I think your foster parents are worried you’ll get lost out in the Scottish mists.” Quipped Michael, holding the jumper up for inspection and laughing when it seemed gargantuan even on him.

Jamie snatched it back and promptly put it on happily. “I love jumpers. Besides, they’re just trying to show house support… I will look a bit like a bee though.”

“That’s because you’re teeny tiny.” 

Jamie glared at him before opening the second to last package, which was in slightly different paper. This one was from Mr Pilchard. He’d sent a large, empty lined journal, which his accompanying note explained that the journal was charmed with a series of intricate little spells that meant that the journal would remain seemingly the same size, but could have endless pages of notes added to it. The visible pages would form a contents page and all the user had to do was point their wand at the appropriate title and the book would flick open to those notes, expanding as large as necessary to accommodate it. Apparently, this was from a prototype range made by an acquaintance of Mr Pilchard. Jamie wasn’t surprised, he did know a vast wealth of people.

“You get some strange gifts.” Offered Michael, seemingly put out but the lack of anything too exciting.

The three of them spent a pleasant Saturday together. Luna having commandeered Jamie’s Walkman to listen to music while sketching, Michael occupied himself with reading through an old potions book that had been in her vault, and Jamie alternated between carefully scribbling in her new journal and watching Bast chase dust motes.

The journal was fantastic, you wrote into the front most page the title of the section you wanted to write, and it would flick to a blank page. Jamie started by transcribing down the various copies of Defence Against the Dark Arts notes they had gathered, titling each with the name of the student, the academic year the notes were from and the defence professor who had instructed them. From her mother’s notes she gathered that she had had a different instructor every year she had been in school, however, none of the notes from ancestors before then seemed to have had that issue.

As Birthdays went, it was exactly as Jamie liked them, simple, understated, and by the time they all packed up and went down to the feast, Jamie having proudly donned her new socks as well as the bright jumper “for house pride and house horror” as she put it, their spirits were high.

The feast was spectacular, live bats flew around the ceiling and Hagrid’s Jack-o-Lanterns flickered and cast a wonderful spooky glow about the place. The only truly bizarre thing was that in a castle usually full of ghosts popping in and out of the hall, not a single spirit could be seen at the feast most suited to their presence. There was, however, a troupe of dancing skeletons, an orchestra that played eery melodies without anyone playing the instruments, and after pudding had been served, little boxes with trick surprises inside appeared before each student, some with jack in the boxes, some that made growling noises when opened while others just had a few treats inside.

When the feast ended, Dumbledore stood up for last minute announcements. 

“As I am sure you are all aware,” he began “Our own Sir Nicolas de Mimsy Porpington, Gryffindor House ghost,” here he pause for the enthused cheers from the table behind Jamie, “is celebrating his 500th anniversary of his deathday in the dungeons. I’ve been made aware that the condensed presence of so many spirits in one area has left the dungeon area very cold, not to mention, full of rowdy cheer. As such, curfew will be extended this evening until 9:30 in order to allow for the dispersal of the ghost visitors and the clean up of the party. I take this opportunity to remind you all that the grounds are out of bounds after nightfall and the library is closed, however, I have taken the liberty of having a few old classrooms on the second floor set up for indoor games under the supervision of our prefects.”

Michael made his way over to the two girls as soon as they were dismissed. “Let’s go up to the games rooms, the ghosts are going to be awful if I have to go back to the common room.”

Luna and Jamie both agreed and followed the swooping crowd, keeping an eye on the Weasley twins who seemed delighted by what would clearly be an unprecedented opportunity to cause mischief with the other houses, but as the crowd of students reached the second floor, a hush fell, eery and oppressive, only broken by frantic whispering from the students at the front of the group.  
“What’s going on?” asked Michael

Jamie tugged on Fred Weasley’s sleeve since he was tall and repeated the question.

“Dunno,” said Fred, “can’t see much, just my brother Ron and his friends. There’s some sort of writing on the wall up ahead.”

His musings were cut short by a nasally voice near the front shouting: “Enemies of the Heir, beware! You’ll be next, Mudbloods!”  
It was Draco Malfoy; Jamie was sure of it. She hadn’t ever warranted the horrific circumstance of speaking to the boy, but everyone in their year at least knew him by reputation and learned quickly to get away as soon as they heard his snobbish, pretentious tones wafting in the halls.  
“What’s happening?” asked Jamie desperately trying to see over the sea of taller heads.  
George craned to the side for a better look only to pale.   
“Sweet Circe!” he exclaimed.

“What’s going on here? What’s going on?” Shouted a different voice from the behind  
Jamie quickly dodged away from Filch who was pushing through the loitering mass of children.

George and Fred grabbed Jamie, Michael and Luna by the wrists and pulled them toward an alcove with a pillar that you could sort of balance on the outcropped mouldings of if you were careful and helped hoist them up.

“My cat! My cat! What’s happened to Mrs. Norris?” Filch shrieked.

Jamie struggled to take in the scene, she could finally see what was written on the wall beside Ginny’s brother Ron and his friends.

“THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE!”

“You!” Filch screeched, pointing an accusatory finger at Harry Potter “You! You’ve murdered my cat! You’ve killed her! I’ll kill you! I’ll—”

“Argus!”

Dumbledore had arrived on the scene, followed by a number of other teachers. In seconds, he had swept past Harry, Ron, and Hermione and detached Mrs. Norris from the torch bracket.

“Come with me, Argus,” he said to Filch. “You, too, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger.”

Lockhart stepped forward eagerly.

“My office is nearest, Headmaster—just upstairs—please feel free—”

“Thank you, Gilderoy,” said Dumbledore.

The silent crowd parted to let them pass. Lockhart, looking excited and important, hurried after Dumbledore; as did Professors McGonagall and Snape.

The remaining teachers and the prefects immediately began herding the students away. Ginny found her way to her brothers looking pale and frantic. “What do they want with Ron, Harry and Hermione?” she asked.

“I don’t know, Gin.” Replied Fred, “but Percy is definitely going to do a head count and will catch a fit if you aren’t in the common room with the others, I’ll find out what’s going on alright?”

She hesitantly nodded before scurrying after her oldest brother.

George and Fred gave one another a meaningful look before hurrying off down the hall. Jamie was quick to follow, and Michael and Luna followed her.

“Wait!” said Jamie, keeping pace with their longer stride.

“No can do Jim-Jam.” Said George, “You lot are first years, you’re bound to be noticed if you aren’t back in your common rooms, besides, too many people listening at a key hole leads to no one hearing anything but the breathing of other eavesdroppers.”

The two older boys shook the first years after promising to pass on anything they found out, and so, with shivers that settled right into their bones and with a deep sense of unease, Jamie, Luna and Michael headed for their common rooms. A chill had settled in the castle, one that had little to do with the damp weather. Not a soul in the castle slept peacefully that night.


	18. Red Heads and Records

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been far too long since my last update but now I have 3 new chapters to post. These are likely to get edited slightly as they've not been fully beta read yet but I needed to get them out into the world.
> 
> As for this particular chapter, I really enjoyed coming up with a realistic way for Jamie's gang to search for answers, whether or not those answers would be correct is another matter entirely and just part of the fun. Chapter includes a nice long description of the Hogwarts library for all the bibliophiles out there. I sort of based the library of the Great British Library in that it is so vast. I figure Wizards would likely keep records for current school things in the headmaster and professor's offices, but if you just keep records around permanently, they would stack up horribly so they get moved to the Hogwarts Library. The exception to this being that Argus Filch has been keeping his own filing system since starting the job, including marauder era pranks. But I also figure that Filch isn't old enough to have been caretaker when Hagrid was at school, so a different caretaker, one who did send files to the library was in place.
> 
> As for the reference to Shelob. I know in the films (which would not have come out in the time this story is set) they gave Shelob a stinger, but I did also research it. in the book, it does say "Now the miserable creature [Samwise] was right under her, for the moment out of reach of her sting and her claws." I always interpreted that as her having a stinger and clearly the film's did too. but yeah, normal spiders don't have stingers.

True to their words, the next morning saw Fred and George plonking themselves down at the Hufflepuff table in front of Jamie, Luna and Michael.

“The cat’s not dead!” exclaimed Fred.

Jumping in before the three could ask a torrent of questions, George explained. “Dumbledore reckons she’s been petrified, he doesn’t know how though. Filch was livid, kept saying it was Harry, but even Snape reckoned Harry didn’t do it, given how you’d need to be a really powerful dark wizard to do it, and Snape hates him.”

“But who could have done it?” asked Michael, “there was no one else in the corridor. And that writing on the wall had to have been done by someone.” 

Fred eyed the green of Michael’s tie before giving a shrug. “Whoever it was, it wasn’t Harry, Ron and Hermione. Those three are magnets for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, sure, but they’ve been complaining about having to go to that Deathday Party all week instead of the feast.”

Michael looked as though he were about to dive into an investigation of loopholes, but Jamie gave him a kick in the shins and a pointed look so he changed tactics. “What IS the Chamber of Secrets? All of my housemates have been talking non-stop about it last night but shut up whenever I tried asking one of them.”

“It’s just a legend.” Fred answered “George and I tried looking for it in our first and second year but eventually just chalked it up to a myth. It’s mentioned briefly in Hogwarts: A History but only barely, mostly you’ll only hear about it as an old wives tale, our uncle Bilius told us about it before we started school as a kind of ‘don’t wander around the school after curfew or Slytherin’s monster will get you.’ Kind of thing. Probably the wrong thing to tell us since it just made us try and find it.”

Luna nodded. “My grandpa said that when he was at school, people were worried the Chamber of Secrets had been opened, some people got Petrified, one girl died, but apparently the culprit was expelled and nothing happened after that so everyone seemed to move on. It was his last year of school though, so he wasn’t really paying too much attention.”

“Not paying too much attention?” asked Michael with a scandalised look, “a girl died!”

Luna shrugged, “Grandpa lives in his own world at the best of times, it’s not that he doesn’t care, just that he doesn’t always see what’s going on around him.”

Michael looked as though he was about to make a rude comment, likely about how absent-mindedness must run in the family, when Jamie cut in. 

“But what is it? This Chamber thing?” she asked. Michael turned toward the twins, just as interested.

George sighed. “Apparently when the Founders built the school, Salazar Slytherin built a secret chamber somewhere, made it so that only he could access it. According to the legend, he hid a monster inside. You know how Slytherin house doesn’t allow muggleborns, Salazar Slytherin thought they shouldn’t be allowed at Hogwarts at all, left the school and fell out with the other Founders because of it. Legend says he made it so that only his true heir could return and set the monster loose on the castle to get rid of muggleborns once and for all.” 

He gave a disgusted shiver before adding to Michael, “That’s probably why your housemates won’t tell you about it. Most of them have probably known the legend since before they could walk, a good few of them likely agree with the whole anti-muggle sentiment. Load of bull, mind.”

Jamie was staring perplexedly at the table grain as though it held the secrets of the universe but looked up just as the two older boys stood, about to leave for their own table. 

“Do us a favour and don’t talk about this stuff around our sister, Ginny. She loves cats and this whole thing has her really worked up. We keep telling her that it’ll be fine, that Dumbledore said she can be healed by some mandrake root potion, but it doesn’t seem to help” said George as an afterthought before following his brother.

The three nodded and went back to their breakfasts, each lost to their own musings.

“But that doesn’t make sense!” Jamie said emphatically after a few minutes of silence.

“What doesn’t?” asked Michael.

“I was reading Hogwarts: A History last week, it says the Founders founded Hogwarts in the 10th century!”

“Yeah… so?” Michal prompted, perplexed.

“So, the castle isn’t anywhere near that old, castles only started being built in England in the 12th century, they taught us that in history last year, we went on a tour of the Tower of London and everything. When the book said ‘founded in the tenth century, I figured they meant the theoretical concept, like the most skilled magical folk of each Kingdom, began formalised education of groups of children in the tenth century.” Jamie said.

“...Okay, but like magic… and stuff… that means they can do things muggles can’t right.”

Jamie gave him a very dry look and continued. “Magic is like superpowers in comic books, sure, but magic doesn’t bridge political gaps between rival kingdoms. The Founders lived in a time before the statute of secrecy, they would have been part of the community, to be of the noble classes they would have had to be a part of feudal muggle society, which includes loyalty to their kings and countries.”

“But surely, the bonds of magic folk vs muggle folk would be a dividing factor? I get what you mean about politics and stuff but they would have had to meet up as fellow wizardfolk, right?”

“How?” asked Jamie. “According to folklore Merlin was from Ireland and travelled to Wales to mentor Arthur and Morgana Le Fey and that was considered a journey of a lifetime. Look at the disparity between broomsticks of different models just in modern times. Everyone in Hufflepuff is talking about how the Slytherin team is going to run rings around every other quidditch team, scale that back and I doubt a medieval broomstick could go much faster than a horse. Sure, the broomstick wouldn’t get tired but still, a journey between the countries would take weeks, you’re telling me, that four witches and wizards, each from a rival country, not only developed a correspondence and a friendship, but then travelled all the way to some out in the middle of nowhere bit of the Scottish highlands, to build a type of building that no one from any of the kingdoms would likely have seen before, in multiple different architectural styles that hadn’t been developed yet, and then had children from all four countries travel here?”

Michael pulled a contemplative face, “I guess it is a bit strange, but what’s your point? What’s any of this got to do with the Chamber of Secrets?”

Luna’s eyes brightened. “Your point is, that if it wasn’t built by Salazar Slytherin himself, if everything was built at different times as needed, we could probably narrow down the location by the architecture.”

Michael looked between the two girls, “Do you two share a brain or something? How did she get that from what you were saying?”

The girls shrugged at the same time and then giggled.

“It makes sense though,” said Jamie. “Why would people who were building something from scratch for the purpose of being a school, have dungeons? Or the arrow slit windows in the castle wall?”

“I guess,” said Michael. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for this, wizard folk aren’t as high and mighty above muggle folk as they believe thing, but how are we going to use architecture to find some secret location?”

“It might work, it might not, I guess. But if there have been changes to the castle and then later the school, there have got to be some kind of records right?”

“Maybe.” said Luna, “We could check the library.”

“Yay.” answered Michael sarcastically “I love dusty records… Luna, couldn’t you write to your grandfather for as much information as he can remember?”

“I suppose, I should also tell papa about this, he loves a mystery.”

“Oh, yeah, I should write to mum, couldn’t last night with the lockdown.”

They spent the rest of breakfast hurriedly scrawling letters. Jamie thought this sort of thing was probably something Mr Pilchard ought to know about and so relayed to him the story of the cat and the writing on the wall, before remembering to send thank you messages to The Harrises for her birthday presents.

The Owlery had rather a queue of students trying to send out their letters so the trio decided to forgo standing on the blustery open bridge in favour of the library, which they assumed would be almost empty, given how it always was almost empty on a Sunday morning, however, instead, they were met by droves of students queueing up at the library desk all making requests for one book, Hogwarts: A History, after fighting their way past the throng, they were pleased to be met with pleasantly quiet shelving.

The library was vast, positively labyrinthine, Jamie thought fondly of her old school library and how Ms Nelson, the old school librarian would likely have cowered at the sheer defiance of the books themselves, valiantly avoiding any normal, recognisable categorisation system.

There were shelves about invisibility, shelves of books that were invisible, shelves of books chained in for student safety and books of all sizes and shapes from a title smaller than Jamie’s thumbnail to ones that would take at least three people to try and lift. There was even a shelf with a note tacked onto it stating the titles available on that shelf in no particular order, with a warning to not attempt to remove any of them without assistance as the books had been together on that particular shelf for so long that they were likely to all come out at the same time. Whether this was due to them sticking together from age or whether they did so out of petty jealousy directed at the selected book, was unclear.

Books that tended to get regular use were closer to the entrance and study areas or the beginning of their shelves. Jamie, Luna and Michael had to walk quite a way into the dusty silent rows of shelves to find what they were looking for. Behind some large roll-out shelves which seemed filled to bursting with old newspapers, they finally found several vastly tall filing cabinets marked “School records”. 

The cabinets, it turned out, were sorted by academic school year, while the folders inside were a rather jumbled mess, containing everything from the school records of past alumni who died that year, to attendance registers, exam performance evaluations and school maintenance records, which often turned out to be blank pages or extremely vague with a few words such as “Dungeons flooded and turned into an ice rink.”

“Which year would your grandfather have finished school, Lu?” asked Jamie.

Luna looked surprised at the nickname but smiled and answered after a thoughtful pause “1943”

The three found the relevant drawer and the one for the year previous.

“Since we don’t know what happened before and what happened after the new year, we should probably look through both,” said Jamie

Michael peered into each drawer and, upon finding them both very thoroughly full, walked off on a quest to find some tables and chairs, muttering good-naturedly about less dusty pastimes for a Sunday that they could be doing instead.

With two tables dragged over from the near-abandoned study area, the three began piling the contents of each drawer on a desk each to prevent folders from being mixed up.

That done Jamie removed folders from after the end of the 1942/43 school year and put them back in the drawer.

“Right, so you said your grandfather mentioned that someone died?” she asked Luna.

“Yup, a muggleborn girl.”

“Okay, let’s start from the end of term and work backwards.”

“Tell me again, why we’re doing this?” asked Michael, giving the dusty folders a weary look.

“Because, we know that something like this happened at the school back when Lu’s grandfather was a student, that people were getting petrified, but that after the girl died, it seemed to get resolved. The Weasleys said that no normal student could be doing this cause it’s dark magic, so that rules out any chance that this is just a horribly misplaced prank. So if we figure out what happened last time, when it happened, and where, we can maybe see if there are commonalities other than that they were all muggleborns, if it’s a specific part of the castle, I’m pretty sure knowing that would be better than just wondering if something is going to happen again. It’s a little odd that this all happened exactly 50 years ago, that sounds like some kind of planned anniversary.”

“You should become an Auror after school Jamie,” said Luna.

“Yeah, you’re a real Sherlock Holmes.” quipped Michael.

Jamie just laughed and shook her head at them. “I just think it doesn’t make any sense that the rest of the school seems to be panicking and trying to read up on the vague description in Hogwarts: A History. That blond boy in the year above us seemed rather delighted by the idea of muggleborns getting killed.”

Michael nodded, “Malfoy, yeah. He’s a right piece of work. He keeps bragging to anyone who will listen that his father is on the governor's board for the school. Seems to think that makes him above any rule. He’s rich too, his dad’s the one who bought the Slytherin Quidditch team all new brooms.”

“Erg.” said Jamie, “And the school hasn’t brought him in to check he didn’t petrify the cat because?”

“Well, aside from how he was loudly bemoaning not knowing who the heir of Slytherin was last night and the fact that he’s like… 12? Probably because if they brought him in without evidence his father would sue… besides, he was at the feast last night, threw a chicken wing at the dancing skeleton that got too close to him, remember?”

“Oh yeah.” said Luna “Horrible waste of good chicken.”

Jamie snorted and turned back to the folders. “I guess good old fashioned investigation is the best way to go then,” she said, pulling out a pad of paper and a few pens. “We can make a list of any events that happened that year and earlier if it seems relevant and then if we see some connected locations, maybe we can look at how old the building looks, and go back to any records from the time of building if they have anything.”

“Riveting.” said Michael, but he picked up the folder for June, wrote “June at the top of a page of notepaper before handing it, the folder and a pen to Luna, taking one for “May” and leaving Jamie with the pad and “April”.

They made rather good time, Luna found the record of the dead girl very quickly, listed under mid-June. Michael got quite a few records for petrified people and by the time lunch swung around, they had a fairly solid list of all events of that year, from the mundane and uneventful groundskeeper’s orders for a new pair of roosters, to as many details as possible on the culmination of the year.

They had agreed to focus on simply noting down given that if they had each exclaimed every new an interesting find, they would have run out of daylight.

Folders back in their drawers and notepaper stored, the three took a shortcut through the quad and over to the Hufflepuff common room since Jamie wanted to get her history books which had some interesting styles from buildings that could help with determining the age of different parts of the castle.

It was as they headed up the stairs to the Great Hall that they met an unexpected sight. At the top of the staircase stood Mr Filch. His eyes were bloodshot, likely from crying over the fate of his cat, and he was brandishing a broom, frantically sweeping at a line of spiders, determinedly making their way up the stairs and toward the entrance chamber. All three of them ended up having spiders swept right onto them and shrieking a little from freight, hurriedly brushed them off.

“What are you louts doing? I’m dealing with an infestation here!” shrieked Filch.

The three made hurried apologies and got out of his way as quickly as possible, but Luna paused and turned back to the scene. “They seem very determined to get out, don’t you think? See look, there’s another line of them,” she said pointing toward the ceiling.

“Have you ever heard of spiders… queueing like that?” asked Michael to no one in particular. 

No one had an answer for him.

The three poured over their lists, careful to not spill pumpkin juice and sandwich fillings on them. However, while interesting, very little meaning could be gleaned from events earlier in the year. They had noted down everything, simply in case it might be useful.

“So we know there were thirteen petrified people, in the latter half of the school year. All of them were muggleborns, culminating in the death of a third-year muggleborn named Myrtle Warren. The board of governors were preparing to close the school but then a fifth-year named Tom Riddle discovered the culprit and the monster. A third-year named Rubeus Hagrid and an Acromantula. The Acromantula escaped, and the culprit was expelled. That’s what we’ve got?” asked Michael.

“Wait, Hagrid? Like the groundskeeper?” asked Jamie curiously.

“You mean the big guy who brought us across the lake at the start of term? His name is Hagrid?”

The girls both nodded.

“Can’t be the same guy, someone who set a monster loose to petrify thirteen people and kill someone, would get sent to Azkaban, not get hired as the groundskeeper,” said Michael.

“But he would have been only about fourteen years old.” said Jamie, “Maybe he didn’t mean to let the monster out?”

“But Acromantulas can’t petrify people.” Luna piped in. “The bigger ones do eat people, and they are a wizard-bred species, from Asia. But they were only seen for the first time in the same year Beatrix Bloxam was born, how would Salazar Slytherin get ahold of one?”

“Who’s Beatrix Bloxam?” asked Michael

“Beatrix Bloxam? She’s a fairy tale writer who wrote bowdlerised adaptations of stories from other writers because she thought bedtime stories needed to be innocent and without a hint of violence. My mum and I used to read them for a laugh occasionally.” Said Luna, as though this was common knowledge.

“...Right… and what year was she born Lu?” asked Jamie, keeping a close eye on Michael for signs of exasperation.

“Oh, 1794,” said Luna simply.

“So you’re saying if the monster was really an Acromantula, it couldn’t be some ancient medieval beasty and while it could have killed the girl, it couldn’t have petrified the others?” asked Michael.

“What about the stinger? In the Lord of the Rings, Shelob has a stinger. What if the acromantula bite is deadly but the stinger just paralyses like a normal spider does to a fly?”

“It’s possible.” said Luna, “Although, spiders don’t typically have stingers, I'm not certain about Acromantulas, and wouldn’t there be an entry wound?”

“Maybe people just didn’t notice?” said Jamie.

“You think it might be the same thing this time? There were those spiders in the stairwell acting weird. If there is some monster spider, maybe it’s scaring all the other spiders away?” said Michael.

“That might make sense,” said Luna.

“Do you still think we need to look at architecture, Jamie?” asked Michael snarkily.

“I think we should use my mother’s map of the school to mark down where all the previous victims were found. A giant spider’s got to be limited in where it can realistically go without being seen, if it is back, we can see if Mrs Norris was found in a similar area or somewhere completely different. I would like to look for any records about the building which might suggest where it could hide or how it could get around.” she answered.

“But if the Acromantula isn’t from the time of Salazar Slytherin, was it just a later addition? Or is the Chamber itself just a myth created later? Who wrote on the wall threatening muggleborns both last time and this time?” asked Luna

The other two shrugged. “Should we go visit Mrs Norris and look for an entry would? I think I heard Professor Sprout saying she had been present to watch Mr Filch insisting she have a bed in the Hospital ward,” said Jamie.

“We are just full of fun ideas for stuff to do today.” snarked Michael

“No one’s forcing you to join us.” laughed Jamie.

“Nonsense, you two would be lost without me, go off wandering the castle trying to find and befriend monsters and creatures unknown.”

When the three arrived at the hospital ward, they were met with a rather odd scene. Mrs Norris had been (with the utmost care) tucked into her own basket bed, which had been placed on top of a hospital bed. On the tray table at the end of the bed were a collection of visitor gifts, no doubt from Mr Filch himself. There was an old and tattered toy mouse, a stick with a shredded bit of ribbon tying some feathers and small bells together. A visitor’s chair had been pulled up beside the bed with a discarded blanket thrown over it as though someone had been using the chair to sleep in. More surprising were the two visitors, currently stood at the cat’s bedside. Professor Dumbledore stood in midnight blue robes, speaking quietly to a small Red-Haired girl, Ginny Weasley.

“- I’m unsurprised the news has spread so fast, but I can assure you, Miss Weasley, your brother and his friends are not in any trouble, and Mrs Norris will be revived as soon as we are able.” Professor Dumbledore was saying.

The two looked up at the newcomers’ arrivals before Madam Pomfrey bustled in and asked: “What do you three need, none of you looks ill or injured?”

Michael and Luna both gave Jamie a look that seemed to say “this was your idea.” and kept silent.

Jamie looked from the pale ginger girl, to the matron and finally to the headmaster, remembering Mr Pilchard’s words about avoiding eye contact.

“Um…” she said inelegantly, trying to figure out who to address about the matter. “I know it’s not really our business, but Professor… we went to the library and looked through the school records for the 1942/1943 school year. Luna’s grandfather was finishing school, you see, and he told her about petrifications that happened back then. And, well we found a record saying that last time an Acromantula was blamed. But then, you see we were wondering how it could have killed one girl but only petrified the other thirteen students. So I wondered if maybe the amount of venom it used could vary the effect from paralysis to actual death, or maybe if it had a stinger that paralysed and a bite that killed then maybe it would still make sense. But Luna said that spiders don’t typically have stingers at all. And seeing as how it was odd that it happened exactly 50 years ago, we were wondering if maybe it was the same thing after all… I guess… We kind of wanted to ask if Mrs Norris had a bite or stinging wound?” Jamie said in a torrent of words. She paused to suck in a breath, looking from Dumbledore to the Matron and then to Ginny before pressing her lips together as though to keep any more words from pouring out.

Madam Pomfrey looked at Dumbledore with a raised eyebrow. “I haven’t seen any bite marks or something that would suggest a stinger… barely so much as a flea bite on that cat, Argus takes such care of her.”

Dumbledore was giving the three first years a measuring look as though x-raying their very souls before answering.

“Very astute… and swift researching skills, I must say, however, I can assure you that Mrs Norris… and the children who were petrified in 1942, were petrified and not paralysed. They all made full recoveries, once we were able to buy in enough mandrakes. It was a challenge with the Muggle war going on, you see. Land was being used for growing crops. But no, no bite marks.” he said.

Jamie gave a frown before saying: “But sir, if the acromantula didn’t do it, then why did they expel that boy, the third year.” She scrambled through her bag for the list trying to find the name. “Rubeus Hagrid, sir.”

Ginny’s eyes had grown to the size of saucers and her mouth had fallen agape but Dumbledore merely continued. “Unfortunately, sometimes, politics can get in the way of justice Miss Schwarz. You have my personal reassurance that Hagrid’s only potential crime was caring too much about a misunderstood and possibly dangerous creature. Acromantulas, even now have been incredibly difficult to research, they have a tendency to eat their researchers, you see. Back then, there was no evidence that an acromantula COULDN’T petrify someone. Now, quite, fortunately, we have some better research, compliments of another Hogwarts Hufflepuff student with a penchant for research.”

“Hagrid, sir? Do you mean the groundskeeper?” Michael piped up.

“Yes, I do.” said Dumbledore. “I was the one who convinced the Ministry and the former headmaster that there was not enough evidence to charge Hagrid, they insisted on his expulsion from the school but he was trained under the old groundskeeper until his retirement. It should go without saying that I would prefer you three to keep this information to yourselves. Hagrid was at the feast the night Mrs Norris was attacked. I am sharing this information because you three found records of his expulsion, but I think it goes without saying that there are many in this school who would take that information to slander and cause fear and doubt. No one deserves to be punished for a crime there is no evidence of them committing, am I clear?

Michael, Luna, Jamie and Ginny all nodded solemnly.

That done, it seemed the air changed with a discreet sort of dismissal from the headmaster, but as they turned to leave, Luna turned back.

“Professor, what sort of things CAN cause petrification? We saw a large number of spiders fleeing the castle this morning in a very orderly fashion and I assumed they were fleeing from a bigger, much older acromantula, but if it isn’t that… what could it be?”

“I’m afraid I do not know… If I did I would feel a good deal better if I did.” replied the headmaster looking deep in thought as he gazed out the window at the warm afternoon light.


	19. Grace and Sincerity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second of my three-part chapter dump today.  
> WARNINGS: Contains mention of Dobby's self harm, not graphic but there are mentions of bruising, blood and splinters.

As the school dived into the next week it seemed as though the excitement of the attack was dying down in favour of the thrill of an upcoming quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin.

On Monday morning, Luna and Jamie braved the chilly November wind for a brisk run around the grounds. It was wonderfully bracing in comparison with the stuffiness of the classrooms, but their jaunt was cut rather short when Luna noticed several distinct lines of spiders crawling their way down the hill from the castle and into the Forbidden Forest.

Luna had waved over Hagrid, the groundskeeper to point out the phenomenon, and while Jamie would agree that the man seemed the sort that wouldn’t so much as hurt a fly, it was rather odd how he cast his eyes deep into the forest, told them to run along back to the castle. Watching from the castle doors, they saw him emerge from his hut with a crossbow and his boarhound before he disappeared into the Forest.

But in all other ways, the school returned to normal. Transfiguration was becoming vastly more interesting now that they had a solid theoretical background, Herbology and potions seemed to work somewhat in tandem, with many of the plants that were learned about in Herbology cropping up again with their preparation and uses in Potions. History of Magic continued its chronological tour of history, which was nice as while each topic was mostly an overview with more depth being promised in later years, they had currently been focusing on pre-Statute of Secrecy time periods, the ancient and medieval world, what is remembered by muggles and what has been forgotten.

Professor Bins seemed rather surprised when, at the end of their Tuesday class, Bast had launched herself up onto his desk. She didn’t seem at all perturbed when Professor Bins had tried to shoo her, saying he had been allergic to cats during his life and wasn’t too keen on beginning to like them during his death. But he was quite charmed by her name, beginning a discussion on the powerful ancient witch and animagus Bast, who muggles had come to see as a goddess.

Charms was coming along well for Jamie as well, she was finally beginning to see normal magic from her Oak wand in classes and from her Blackthorn wand, there was still overly enthusiastic bursts, like the time they practised the Spongify charm and Professor Flitwick had had to bounce his way out of the classroom in order to put it to rights, but it was at least fairly manageable. 

In Thursday’s Charms lesson, Jamie was quite concerned to overhear a Hufflepuff boy trying to tell Colin to stay away from Harry Potter.

“He defeated You Know Who as a baby, Colin, no one else is going to be powerful enough to petrify someone. I heard that last year he got past magical protections set up by every single one of the teachers to get something that was hidden. Teachers, Colin.”

Colin didn’t seem to be hearing any of it. “He’s my friend, and he’s really nice, always says hello to me too.”

Jamie had expected some kind of interjection from Ginny at this point, but Ginny had been looking ill all week and kept her nose down, scribbling in her diary, but she shot a look at Jamie and nodded when she poked the other girl’s arm and whispered, “See, Colin’s not all bad.”

It was really only Defence Against the Dark Arts that Jamie didn’t enjoy. Professor Lockhart kept spending his time either boasting about his successes or hinting that whoever petrified the cat had likely stopped now as they realised they would no doubt get caught by the great Gilderoy Lockhart in no time at all.

Jamie didn’t even bother listening with so much as half an ear anymore, her dictation quill sat in her bag as Luna and herself studiously read through notes and old textbooks on whatever topic they had chosen to study for the lesson. Today they were looking at Vampires, ironically, so was Lockhart, although Jamie reckoned their notes would be far more insightful than the notes being made about Lockhart’s heroics. Luna had found out that the previous defence professor had been an extraordinary researcher of vampires, before he had apparently been possessed by “He-who-must-not-be-named”, that is. They had the very objective, very jargon-filled tome of his research from the library set in the groove between their desks. They had a series of older student’s notes from the lessons they had had on the topic spread out over their two desks, and finally, a large Bestiary from Jamie’s trunk had been added to their pile. The two would sit closely, summarise the notes into a concise lesson before jotting down a note on the various levels of depth each previous year group had received on the subject.

At the lesson end, they would scurry over to where the Gryffindors and Slytherins of their year were coming out of their Transfiguration lesson. They would then hand over the tome, bestiary and previous students’ notes to Michael so that he could make his own notes during his own Defence lesson. Professor McGonagall would use a copying charm on their summaries and notes to track if particular year groups suffered from a lack of particular subjects or for the year overall. As she put it: “This school has seen a different Defence professor every year since 1968, should we have one again next year, I should very much prefer to be able to point them in the direction of any substantial lacks of knowledge.”

On Saturdays, Jamie, Luna and Michael would usually meet up in the same dusty and forgotten classroom they had spent Jamie’s birthday in. They would practice the few spells they knew, Jamie being very careful to only ever practice with her Oak wand around them and Bast would often simply snooze in a sunbeam. But today, the castle was a raucous mess of excitement even at 8 in the morning when Luna and Jamie got in from their run about the grounds. Everyone seemed to be wearing as much green or red as they could manage. One boy was running about with a red and gold scarf wrapped around his school hat and another around his neck. Bast was rather less than amused by such rowdiness at a time of the morning that typically was quiet. She sat primly on Jamie’s lap as though to feel more boxed in and away from the jostling crowd. Jamie, much to the amusement of Michael, spent her breakfast alternatively feeding herself and the rather demanding cat in her lap.

Jamie had never seen a game of Quidditch, and Michael had only been once, and both agreed it would likely be more fun going in with no knowledge of the rules than to try and get someone to explain it all out. They had, of course, been receiving a lesson a week in flying from Madam Hooch since the start of the year, but while Jamie wasn’t afraid of heights at all, she hadn’t been too fond when on Thursday, Madam Hooch had explained they were to attempt the broomstick version of the bleep test. Flying fast in one direction. Tapping a large cone and then trying to turn the ancient school broom back in the opposite direction. Jamie had found it easier to simply flip the broom and fly upside-down on the back route than to actually get the broom to cooperate. Never-the-less, she was quite interested to see the new brooms the Slytherins kept bragging about. Jamie couldn’t really believe a few smoother bristles could honestly make much of a difference.

The light drizzle which had been hanging about like a cloud of mist earlier was now coming down in sheets. Jamie was infinitely glad that she had a large umbrella to hide under. They sat in the back row to try and get the best possible view over the throng and also to avoid the umbrella blocking the view of the other spectators. 

They had elected to sit on the far edge of the Ravenclaw crowd, right next to the Slytherins as Michael had expressed concern that he needed to at least show minimal house spirit. Luna helpfully pointed out that since blue and yellow mixed made green, they were really all supporting Michael’s house even if none of them really felt much spirit.  
Jamie noticed Grace Yardley carefully making her way through the crowd to the bench in front of them. 

“Cromwell,” she said nodding curtly to Michael.

“Yardley,” he responded with a receptacle nod.

Grace then turned to the two friends trailing her.

“This is James Schwarz.” she said by way of explanation, “James, this is Veronica Elm and Henrietta Fawcett.” she nodded to each in turn.

Jamie was a little confused by the formal introductions but hurried to politely shake the girl’s offered hands before saying. “This is Luna Lovegood, and I suppose you know Michael?”

“Not really,” said Veronica with a shrug but she extended a hand to him none the less.

“Is your name really James?” asked Henrietta. Her dress and hair were immaculate and screamed of wealth but the face she pulled seemed to rather undo the illusion of polite society. Grace elbowed her in the ribs.

“James, we were wondering if this bench was taken, seeing as how your umbrella seems to be blocking most of the rain and wind and Henrietta was concerned about her hair being ruined.” Grace interrupted.

“Umm…” Jamie said, looking to her friends who both shrugged. “We weren’t expecting anyone. And yes, my name is really James. Most people call me Jamie though.

Henrietta seemed to think it best to give a tight smile and sit down, watching the crowd and the field far below. Grace and Veronica both sat facing the other three.

“Have you seen many Quidditch games, James?” asked Grace.

“No, none” replied Jamie, “but I think I gathered the gist of it from Madam Hooch’s lessons.” It was then that Jamie noticed Veronica was gazing at Michael, so she gave him a prod with her elbow. 

“Been to one when I was a kid. I don’t really remember it much though,” said Michael when he realised he was being asked to help carry the conversation.

Henrietta sniffed inelegantly. “That’s surprising, Cromwell. The way you act you’re basically muggleborn.”

Michael looked as though he was going to say something but Veronica stood up and snapped. “And what’s wrong with that? My mother is a muggleborn and you know it!”

Henrietta seemed to ignore this outburst and instead just said: “The game is about to start.”

Veronica looked as though she wanted to shout some more but she glanced shyly up at Michael and sat down instead. It was a little like watching a king cobra fold away its mantle. Still just as powerful as before but suddenly small. Jamie got the distinct impression that some particularly heated words were going to be had later.

The match began, the players a blur of crimson and emerald. Jamie could barely believe her eyes at how fast they were all going but it was very clear that the Slytherins were distinctively faster. 

Everything was a mess of frenetic movement, to such an extent that Jamie barely knew where to look so she focussed on the only players she knew. The Weasley twins, with their bright copper hair, were recognisable even at this distance. But it seemed they were occupied with something, one of the balls seemed focused on pursuing a player and the twins were focusing everything they had on keeping it veered away from that player.

Jamie leaned forward and carefully tapped Grace on the shoulder. “Do you see that one ball over there? The one the Gryffindors with the bats are hitting? Is it meant to be doing that?”

Henrietta rolled her eyes so hard it seemed likely they would fall out of her head. “Beaters are the players with the bats. And the ball is called a bludger. The Beaters are supposed to hit them towards the other team’s players.”

Grace gave Jamie an apologetic smile for her friend but then actually looked where Jamie had indicated. “Wait, no, James is right, that bludger is targeting Potter, they’re not meant to target anyone, just move in random chaotic ways until they get hit onto a course.” 

“You don’t suppose someone has jinxed it? Do you?” Michael asked.

Henrietta turned around, “Are you accusing our house of cheating?!” she demanded.

“I’m in your house idiot, no need to act like I’m an outsider. Besides, in answer to your question, no. I think tampering with a bludger during a game specifically between us and the Gryffindors is far too… blunt, I guess. It’s very specifically targeting that Potter guy. If a Slytherin wanted to cheat to win the game, it would be better to do something against the whole team or take out the keeper at least. Potter’s the seeker isn’t he, he’s got one chance of getting any points and he’s already up against someone on a much faster broom. Not that Malfoy seems to be actually doing anything.” he nodded up toward the sky where a blond Slytherin was gliding about and laughing at Potter’s near misses. “What I was saying, was that either something went wrong with the natural charms on the ball, or someone tampered with it specifically. I suppose the Gryffindors aren’t stupid enough to try and target their own player to try and get the game called in their favour?” 

“No,” replied Veronica, “That’s a decidedly Slytherin way of thinking. Pity, it might have worked for them if they had.”

“No it wouldn’t have,” said Henrietta “you have to yield the match to get it called. The only way to have another team penalised is if they are caught in the act of doing something during or before the game.”

“Look!” said Jamie, “they’ve called a time out, if the ball had been tampered with before the game, wouldn’t it follow Potter down and not care about time outs?”

“So… Someone is controlling it directly? Someone here in the audience?” said Grace

They all seemed to shrug at each other and stood to try and get a better glimpse of what was going on down on the ground.

When the players took off again they noticed a change of tactic, the Weasleys had stopped chasing the rogue bludger in order to focus on the rest of the game. The rogue bludger, however, wasted no time in taking after Potter.

Jamie and the others divided their time between watching Potter perform some rather acrobatic avoidance tricks and scanning the crowd for anything suspicious, a near-impossible task given how closely packed in everyone was.  
There was some commotion out in the air. “Did he just try and attack Malfoy?!” yelled Michael.

“No, I think the bludger got him in the arm just a moment ago. Look how he’s holding it.” Replied Veronica, jumping up and down for a better look over the excitable crowd. “He’s going down! But he’s not holding onto the broom with either hand now. Oh, oh, I think he must have caught the Snitch.”

Harry Potter hit the pitch like a fly on a windshield. Jamie was surprised she couldn’t see actual splatter marks. But everyone was rushing down toward him.

There was a lot of jostling as everyone tried to get a look from the pitch above. But Madam Hooch announced that the game was over, Harry Potter had caught the Snitch.

As the crowds began to dissipate and trudge carefully down the many sets of stairs and back up the hill towards the castle. Jamie, Luna, Michael, Grace and Veronica held back. Henrietta had stomped off in rather a huff as soon as some other Slytherin first years had begun to leave.

“I think I’m gonna hang about for a bit,” said Jamie “I know the Weasley twins a little, they might be able to say what happened in a bit more detail.”

Veronica nodded “I would stay and find out but I’m cold. Michael, did you know there was going to be a party later? The team were so sure that we were going to win they brought all sorts of things. They’ll probably still have it, although with a more sombre mood and more grousing, want to come?”

Michael looked rather taken aback and even turned to Jamie with a distressed sort of “What do I do?” look on his face.

“Would probably be a good chance to actually meet and talk to some of your other housemates. You said it was the loud pontsy ones that were the problem, they can’t all be like that.” Jamie said with a grin nodding in the Slytherin girl’s direction. “You’ll help point him in the right direction, right Veronica.”

“Absolutely,” the girl said grabbing hold of Michael’s elbow and looking all the more delighted when he gave a rather high pitched squawk as he was dragged forward “And call me Vee, honestly, only Grace and Henrietta ever call me by my full name and that’s cause they were raised formal!”

“You go on ahead,” said Grace “I’ll catch up, I’m curious about if Potter’s dead or not, Malfoy is likely to be insufferable if he is and I’d like the fore-warning.”

Vee seemed absolutely delighted by this and nodded, already frog-marching a distressed-looking Michael toward the stairs. “Let me know what happens!” she called back.  
The last Jamie saw of Michael was his wide-eyed face before he disappeared down the staircase.  
Grace covered her mouth to hold in a giggle. “I think Vee’s got a bit of a crush on him, she kept going on about “that sad, stoic boy who sits with the Hufflepuffs” and I decided enough was enough, but you,” she pointed at Jamie teasingly “you’ve got Slytherin in your family, I’ll bet! Oh, yes, Michael, go and make friends. Brilliant.”

Jamie smirked and shook her head, “I’d feel bad about dropping him into a snake pit, but he did have the option of a discussion with the Sorting Hat, he’s going to have to learn to live with them eventually. Besides, he’s been downright snarky recently, it’s a nice change to see him flounder a bit.”

“I think he likes her too,” said Luna “his eyes went glassy when he looked at her. It's either he likes her or has a bad infestation of wrackspurts.” she said matter of factly.

Before Grace could ask what a wrackspurt was, Luna continued “I think I’ll go inside too, Professor Lockhart’s down there and I’d really rather not have him try to talk to us.”

And with that, she turned to go.

“Okay Lu,” said Jamie, “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

Luna didn’t really acknowledge the statement, already in her own world, humming a strange and slightly eerie tune.

Jamie turned back to Grace with a shrug and a fond smile.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but she is rather strange,” said Grace haltingly. She had not said it like strange was a bad thing, just different.

Jamie shrugged again, “Aren’t we all?” she said with a laugh. “She’s a good friend and smart as anything too, just lives in her own world sometimes. “

“Fair enough. I am sorry about Henrietta, by the way. She can be…”

Jamie paused, not really wanting to interject her own personal descriptors for the girl.

“Narrow-minded.” Grace finished, “I’ve known her for as long as I can remember though.”

“That’s certainly one way of putting it,” said Jamie with a reassuring smile. “Shall we head down?” she nodded at the pitch where, instead of moving Harry Potter up to the castle as Jamie had expected, they were all just standing about in the rain.

Making their way carefully down the stairs, they were surprised to hear agonised and shrill sobbing about halfway down the stairwell, interspersed with loud thudding. Even more surprising was when they rounded a bend in the staircase and came across a house elf.

Grace and Jamie exchanged a perplexed look before Jamie carefully knelt before the elf.  
“Excuse me, are you alright?” she asked. The elf jumped a little in fright and immediately began grabbing at the pillowcase he wore for clothing and apologising profusely. 

“Dobby is sorry to disturb, Dobby thought the stadium was clear.” cried the elf, twisting his pillowcase nervously.

“It’s alright,” said Jamie hurriedly trying to calm the creature. “We were just worried about you, that’s all. You seem to have hit your head quite badly, there’s a large bump that’s beginning to bruise, oh and what on Earth has happened to your hands?” Jamie carefully indicated the very battered-looking digits. “May I?” she asked, carefully extracting a small dropper bottle of dittany that she had started keeping in her robe pocket since her morning runs had become more slippery. “This is dittany, it will help a little.”

“Oh, no no miss! Dobby punishes himself. Dobby cannot remove the punishment.”

Jamie was surprised by this. “Wait… Hogwarts elves aren’t ever commanded to punish themselves, you’re not a Hogwarts elf are you?”

The little elf’s ears twitched and his eyes became round as saucers and he looked like he was about to slam his head against the railing again, so Jamie jumped in.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me where you are from or anything… It’s just that I don’t think anyone could really fault you for a bit of dittany. You punished yourself, as whoever told you to commanded. I don’t really agree with such things, but you did do what was commanded, if whoever told you to do it was against you healing afterwards they would likely have to have you do the exact same thing at regular intervals since the body heals naturally anyway. By definition, punishment, even corporal punishment and self-administered punishment, is only meant to be temporary, otherwise, it becomes torture, which is illegal. You should really have some dittany then, otherwise, your master’s orders go from punishment to torture making his orders illegal.” said Jamie.

Bast chose that moment to snake out from behind Jamie. “Meow,” she said, seemingly in adamant agreement.

Dobby didn’t seem afraid of Bast, or in awe like the elves on the train platform had been a few months ago. It either meant he had not recognised her for what she was, probably because she hadn’t emerged straight out of a shadow like the last time, but it was also possible that Dobby had been born into servitude and isolation, with no one to tell him tales of his people’s origins or culture.

Dobby did stare though, he stared as though slowly working through Jamie’s logic. “You is kind to Dobby, miss,” he said after a while.

Taking this as an ascent, Jamie very carefully took the elf’s hand and began applying dittany. “You can call me Jamie,” she said with a smile.

Grace had very carefully knelt down next to Jamie, she had a perplexed look on her face, but when she looked at the little elf hand cradled carefully in Jamie’s hand she exclaimed “Oh, you have splinters! Hang on, I’ve got some tweezers… I’m Grace by the way.”

Dobby seemed quite unsure of how to deal with all this kindness. But Bast had strutted right up to the elf and was gently butting her head against him and purring. Jamie had taken one of his hands and was applying dittany while Grace had carefully taken his other hand and was gently removing splinters. When both hands were done, Grace took out a handkerchief, and much to the elf’s horror, tore it into strips to carefully wrap around each hand.

“There! All done.” Grace said rather proudly with the last knot. She sniffed lightly and Jamie could have sworn she saw the other girl's eyes looking watery before she turned her head to put her tweezers away in her purse, when she turned back she seemed entirely composed.

The little elf thanked them both, even blushingly thanking Bast who meowed back at him, before with a loud CRACK he had disapparated.

“That poor elf,” said Grace quietly. “We used to have an elf, but father dismissed her when my brother and I were too old to require a nanny… Her name was Lenna, I wonder where she is now. You… You don’t think she would have ended up with the sort of family that Dobby’s tied to do you?”

“I don’t know,” said Jamie honestly. “I’ve never really met many elves, but if she specialised in child-rearing, I doubt anyone would treat her too poorly in case it upset their children… What I want to know is what was Dobby doing here… and why was he punishing himself?”

“Well… if he was here it was either because his master was here and he was ordered to be, or he was punishing himself for going against orders… although that still doesn’t explain why he would be here.”

“But he wasn’t a school elf, how could his master be here?” asked Jamie.

Grace stopped dead. “Draco Malfoy was bragging about how his father was coming to see the match… He’s the one who bought the team new brooms.”

“You don’t think he ordered his house-elf to do something to that bludger, do you? Isn’t Potter’s the best broom on the Gryffindor team? Making him the only one likely to score any points? Can’t be can it? I mean, it’s just a school match, who cares?”

“Some families view their children’s school performance as reflections of family honour and pride, James. To them, a game like this, so proudly sponsored by the Malfoy name would be considered a disgrace.” Grace said softly.

“But then why would Dobby punish himself, if he was doing what he was told?”

“It is strange. Normally house-elves only punish themselves if they disobeyed their masters. So either, he was ordered to punish himself because the bludger didn’t stop Potter from winning the game, or maybe he had nothing to do with the bludger at all.”

“Still weird though.” finished Jamie with a shrug as they entered out onto the pitch.

They could hear Madam Pomfrey angrily grumbling and levitating an unconscious Harry Potter back towards the castle, followed closely by Professor Lockheart who was exclaiming about the proper method of levitating invalids. The Gryffindor team were still hanging about, slowly making their way to the changing rooms. Ginny, Colin, Hermione, Neville and Ron were still all hanging around, slowly walking back up to the castle.

Jamie ran up to Ginny and gave her a light tap on the shoulder.

“Hey, what happened? No one could really see anything from where we were.”

Jamie caught Ron side-eyeing Grace suspiciously and chose to ignore him.

“It was awful!” said Ginny looking horrified. “Someone tampered with the bludger, made it go after Harry, it broke his arm.”

“It wouldn’t have been so bad if Lockheart hadn’t gotten to him before Madam Pomfrey, though,” said Ron looking a little green. “He made all the bones in his arm disappear! It was all… Squashy…”

“It’s a VERY difficult spell to master, Ronald!” said Hermione shrilly “It could have happened to anyone I’m sure!”

“But he’s the Defence Professor, not the school nurse. If it’s such a difficult spell, why’d he do it?” asked Grace.

Jamie had to agree with Grace but Hermione had turned a rather alarming shade and had her eyebrow arched high and a glare that could curdle milk turned on the Slytherin.

“He’s a very famous wizard and he was trying to help. Harry was in a lot of pain! What are you doing here anyway? Wasn’t it your team who tampered with the bludger in the first place?”

It was now Jamie’s turn to glare. “Hey! You’re really going to defend that incompetent idiot of a professor but cast moral aspersions on an entire house just because it’s different to yours?”

Grace had grabbed Jamie’s arm and whispered frantically “Just drop it, James, it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine though, is it? You’ve got toffs like Malfoy strutting around pretending to be better than everyone else and making Michael’s life hell on one side, and then you’ve got people in other houses lumping you all together as if you’re all like that! It isn’t fair, do you think Michael likes not having any friends in his own house? He got on great with Colin here on the train but as soon as the sorting was over it’s like suddenly everyone treats him like he’s got the words “I’m evil, hate me” painted on his forehead just because he’s wearing a green tie! It’s stupid!”

The Gryffindors all looked a little awkward but Ron piped up. “Alright, so maybe they’re not ALL bad, but it’s still suspicious how we were playing against Slytherin when that bludger went after Harry.”

“No one’s disputing that it may have been a Slytherin’s doing, but lumping us all in the same malicious boat is a bit much. Most of us are just, you know, regularly ambitious, with goals like curing Dragon Pox or something.” Grace said simply.

They had reached the main entrance hall and the group began splintering off with the Gryffindors heading for the Hospital Wing and Grace and Jamie heading for their common rooms. Colin, however, hung back a ways.

“Jamie,” he said cautiously.

Jamie paused with Grace waiting a little ways off.

Colin bit his lip before speaking “I didn’t mean to treat Michael like he was evil. I just read that Slytherin produced a lot of dark wizards and hated muggleborns, I figured he wouldn’t WANT to be friends anymore… I didn’t realise he was being treated badly.”

“Well… he is,” said Jamie. “He was raised by his muggle mum so…”

Colin nodded solemnly. “Would you tell him I’m sorry? I’d like to be friends. I’ve got friends in Gryffindor but still.”

“Tell him yourself, Colin. It will mean more coming from you,” said Jamie as she turned to head toward the stairs.

“I will, I’ll tell him tomorrow!” Colin called as he headed toward his own common room.


	20. Mandrakes and Crunchy Snakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final instalment of my three chapter dump.  
> Warning: As the chapter name suggests, Bast kills the snake Malfoy summons at the Duelling club. I don't have anything against snakes and recognise that by the time the snake gets killed it is no longer attacking because Harry commands it not to, but Bast is literally a Fae guardian with a long history of fighting against snake spirits (Will go into that at some point maybe.) but the point is, this giant snake appears out of nowhere right next to Bast's human and Bast freaks the heck out a bit.

The rest of the weekend had been spent quietly curled up in a warm bit of the Hufflepuff common room catching up with homework so it wasn’t until Monday morning that Jamie found out Colin had not been able to apologise to Michael. Neville informed them at Breakfast that Colin had been found petrified on the stairs going toward the hospital wing. A basket of grapes beside him and his camera clutched tightly in his hands.

Jamie, Luna and Michael had tried to go visit, but Madam Pomfrey had tutted loudly and shooed them away.

“His parents are with him currently, and I’ve been asked by the headmaster to keep other visitors out. It’s nothing to gawk at and I’ve already had several groups come by to have a look.”

By lunchtime, a ripple of fear had passed through the school like a winter chill permeating the stone. Each day that passed, the fear seemed to grow. By the second week of November, most first-year students wouldn’t go anywhere without a little pack of other students.

Jamie was rather startled when one morning Patty Williams, the girl who’s dorm was across from her own, emerged from her room looking sleepy but dressed with messy braids at 6:15, exactly as Jamie was leaving her own room.

“You keep a very regular schedule.” Patty had said with a smile that turned into a yawn as though this explained her presence in the hallway. “I know we don’t talk much, but I noticed you always get up and walk alone to go for your runs. It’s really dangerous walking alone! Anyway, I grew up on a farm, been really letting my schedule slip this term, but I figure I ought to start waking up at a normal time or my parents will have my hide this Christmas.”

Jamie was still rather confused, but as she headed towards the exit of the common room, Patty followed, chatting amicably. 

Patty did seem a little dubious by the idea of running at this time of the morning, but she cheered right up when, spotting Hagrid, she volunteered to help him feed the chickens and collect eggs.

Hagrid used the morning fighting sheets of chicken wire into shape around the hutch.

“A fox got at one of my roosters a few nights back.” he said conversationally, “Don’t want to take any chances with the other one or the hens.”

Patty seemed to take it as her job to accompany Jamie everywhere from then on, and, after realising Luna was walking alone too, insisted on meeting at Ravenclaw tower in the mornings.  
Vee insisted on walking with Michael any time he wasn’t with Luna or Jamie “for safety” and so in all, they had grown a rather colourful collection by the last week of November. 

It was only really Charms classes where Jamie noticed that Ginny was still being left alone.

Far from the mottled assortment of friends that had begun talking to Jamie, Ginny continued to sit at the back of the class. Dark rings were beginning to form around her eyes. One of the Gryffindor girls had snidely said at the end of class that Ginny was having nightmares, before exclaiming that she was quite certain Ginny only really cared because the attack on Colin had happened so close to where Harry Potter had been that night.

The problem seemed exacerbated by the fact that Fred and George seemed to believe the best course of action for cheering their sister up would be to start pulling pranks to lighten the mood.

After a particularly bad jump-scare prank, Jamie asked if Ginny would like to sit together at lunch, meaning to try and show some solidarity with the girl, but she said she had homework to do and scurried away.

By the first week of December, the paranoia gripping the school had reached an obnoxious level that even the teachers couldn’t ignore. Students were trading in black market protective talismans and charms. When Jamie arrived for Transfiguration early one day, she saw Professor McGonagall in a huff at Neville Longbottom and throwing a large collection of putrid-smelling items in the bin.

“Even if such Charms were of any use, Longbottom, you’re a Pureblood, there’s no sense in getting worked up and buying useless, rotting onions!”

“But everyone knows I’ve got barely enough magic to be a wizard. I’m basically a squib.” Neville responded morosely.

“Stuff and Nonsense!” replied McGonagall “All you lack is confidence in your own abilities. Professor Sprout was just this morning saying how she wants to ask for your help down in the greenhouses. She says you have a real talent for Herbology, and the Mandrakes are really beginning to need a great deal of attention.”

Neville had looked a little pink from the praise as he was shooed from the classroom.

“Miss Schwarz?” Professor McGonagall said once the boy had left. “You seem to have a talent for befriending a vast array of people, if you’ve any mind to it, I would appreciate it if you could coerce Mr Longbottom into actually going to the greenhouses, he somehow managed to steal back that rotten onion. Being stuck indoors with only his own thoughts for company doesn’t seem to help him.”

Jamie had smiled and nodded before noticing the rest of the contents of the class bin. “Is that a rabbit’s foot?” she asked, wrinkling her nose.

“I dared not ask for clarification,” answered Professor McGonagall writing out the lesson on the chalkboard.

By the time lunch rolled around that day, Jamie had both Luna and Michael filled in on the plan. They approached Neville at the Gryffindor table. He was sitting alone with his nose in a book about Fungi. Jamie had always assumed he spent his time with Potter and his lot but it seemed that was more the exception than the rule.

“Um… Excuse me. It’s Neville isn’t it?” she started.

Neville looked up and nodded, “Yes, that’s me, I’m Neville, can I help you with something?”

“I overheard McGonagall talking to you about helping out in the greenhouses. We’d like to help if we can. Colin, he, well we weren’t close but we met on the train. He was sort of a friend of ours. Can we help?”

Neville seemed a little taken aback but nodded, closed his book and stacked his plate. “Sure, well, I mean I guess, Professor Sprout hasn’t even asked me yet but she’s probably been busy and I go down there most days anyway, so, if you want we can go?”

“Brilliant!” Said Jamie, grabbing up a paper bag and as many sandwiches as it would hold. “Can we go now? Professor Sprout was showing us the bat-thorn plant she’s seeded, it’s so cool!”

“You think it’s cool now, give it a few months and the leaves will start looking all leathery and they flap a bit on the day of a new moon,” said Neville, smiling as he tucked his book under his arm.

As they left the hall, Jamie could have sworn she saw Professor McGonagall sat at the staff table looking for all the world like she was a little bit smug.

As it turned out, Professor Sprout was very glad for the extra hands, and to a different extent, glad for the sandwiches they offered. Aside from the regular preparation of plant species for lessons, there were the mandrakes who appeared to be in their terrible toddler stage of life, the whomping Willow was still on the mend and finally, there was the need to keep both potion storerooms and the hospital wing well stocked with ingredients.

Despite the biting chill of the winter weather, the greenhouses were warm and smelled of life. It was difficult to feel as on edge down here with the soft crumble of dirt under the fingers and the soft tinkling of the sprinkler system or the near-permanent smell of lavender and camomile. Soon enough they were able to fall into a rhythm that was far removed from the dreary nature of the cold castle halls. Professor Sprout prepared for her lessons and prepared more difficult plants, but Neville and Luna would look after the day to day needs of most of the plants. Michael, who had quite a knack for potions would work with Jamie in preparing harvested ingredients. Jamie would collect all prepared ingredients up from the greenhouses in the morning after her run and deliver first to the hospital wing and then to the dungeons so that she was right where she wanted to be to grab her books and meet up with Michael before breakfast.

The work certainly seemed to be helping Neville, he even began occasionally sitting with them for meals, particularly if he had just read something interesting in a book.

In fact, it wasn’t until the third week of December that Neville regressed to even vaguely close to his former anxiety.

“Did you hear?” He asked one morning. “They’re starting up a duelling club! It’s so students can learn to protect themselves, but I know I’ll be awful even with the practice.” He said morosely.

“You don’t know that!” said Michael. "Just look at last week, once I told you about how if you looked at what the herbology ingredients do and thought about combining the outcomes, you were perfectly able to brew that vast cauldron of the cure for boils for Madam Pomfrey, and you’re always saying you’re hopeless at potions.”

“That’s different!” said Neville, “You made the potion make sense from a herbology perspective but when I’m in Potions professor Snape’s right there and he’s ALWAYS telling me I’m doing it wrong. But I’ve always been terrible with spellwork, didn’t even show the vaguest trace of magic until I was eight.”

“Even so,” said Jamie, “practice builds confidence and confidence seems to do wonders for you. So long as you don’t go in expecting failure or wanting to be perfect, you should be fine. Just look at me, it took me a solid week to get a basic Lumos charm working but I kept at it. And we can help too if we all go.”

Neville seemed a little cheered by that until his face fell “The notice said it was for second years and up. I reckon they think first years haven’t learned enough spells yet.”

“Surely there’s no harm in coming to watch though? We can learn the proper form at the very least,” said Michael.

The first meeting of the Duelling Club was held on the last Thursday before the Christmas Holidays and Professor Lockhart seemed to think more students present meant more of an audience for him. The group was mostly Second and Third years with only a scattering of older students. Jamie gave the Weasley twins a perplexed look when they entered the hall.

“Sounded like it would be a laugh,” Fred explained with a wink.

A narrow, raised platform had been set up in the centre of the room with smaller spaced out chalk rectangles on the floor around it.

Gilderoy Lockhart paraded onto the stage, swooshing past students in robes of deep plum and accompanied by none other than Professor Snape, wearing his usual black.

"Gather round, gather round! Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent! Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little duelling club, to train you all in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions - for full details, see my published works.” He paused to flash his trademark smile at a large group of female students who looked like they wanted to applaud. "Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape," Lockhart continued. “He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about duelling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don't want any of you, youngsters, to worry - you'll still have your Potions master when I'm through with him, never fear!"

This garnered the pattering of applause the girls had held back before. Jamie honestly couldn’t be sure which Professor she would prefer to see blasted off the dais but given Professor Snape’s glare, she knew where her money was.

Lockhart and Snape turned to face each other and bowed; at least, Lockhart did, with much twirling of his hands, whereas Snape jerked his head irritably. Then they raised their wands like swords in front of them.

"As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position," Lockhart told the silent crowd. "On the count of three, we will cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course."

Jamie thought she heard one of the Weasley twins mutter the word “Pity.” and had to hide a smirk.

"One - two - three--"

Both of them swung their wands above their heads and pointed them at their opponent; Snape cried: "Expelliarmus!" There was a dazzling flash of scarlet light and Lockhart was blasted off his feet: He flew backwards off the stage, smashed into the wall, and slid down it to sprawl on the floor.

A mixture of cheers, jeers and pained, sympathetic “oooh”s came from the assembled crowd.

Lockhart was getting unsteadily to his feet. His hat had fallen off and his wavy hair was standing on end.

"Well, there you have it!" he said, tottering back onto the platform. "That was a Disarming Charm - as you see, I've lost my wand - ah, thank you, Miss Brown - yes, an excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don't mind my saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you it would have been only too easy - however, I felt it would be instructive to let them see..."

Snape was looking murderous. Possibly Lockhart had noticed, because he said, "Enough demonstrating! I'm going to come amongst you now and put you all into pairs. Professor Snape, if you'd like to help me--"

The small gaggle of first years stood back and Jamie shot Neville a smile and a thumbs up when he got paired with Justin Finch-Fletchley from Hufflepuff. 

"Face your partners!" called Lockhart, back on the platform. "And bow!"

A few of the partners, ones who were clearly friends gave amicable bows, but on the whole, the room seemed tense, many pairs were glaring at each other with barely a head tilt in their partner’s direction.

"Wands at the ready!" shouted Lockhart. "When I count to three, cast your charms to disarm your opponents - only to disarm them - we don't want any accidents - one ... two ... three--"

A blast of silver light shot out on the count of “two”, to the surprise of no one, from one Draco Malfoy at Harry Potter. For a moment, chaos ensued as all the other pairs cast their disarming spells, but it was very clear that the small group of Second years were not here for a fair fight.

A large burley Slytherin girl had not even bothered with wands, dropping her own and punching Hermione in the face before pulling her into a headlock. And It was clear that Malfoy and Potter were not practising mere disarming spells.

"I said disarm only!" Lockhart shouted in alarm over the heads of the battling crowd, as Malfoy sank to his knees; Potter had hit him with a Tickling Charm, and he could barely move for laughing. Malfoy pointed his wand at Potter's knees, and choked, " Tarantallegra!" and the next second Potter's legs began to jerk around wildly.

"Stop! Stop!" screamed Lockhart, but Snape took charge. "Finite Incantatem!" he shouted; Potter's feet stopped dancing, Malfoy stopped laughing. A haze of greenish smoke was hovering over the scene from whatever bizarre spell had come from Ron Weasley. Ron was holding up an ashen-faced Seamus Finnigan, apologizing for whatever his broken wand had done. Both Neville and Justin were lying on the floor, panting; but Hermione and Millicent Bulstrode were still moving; Millicent had Hermione in a headlock and Hermione was whimpering in pain. 

Really, if THIS was the Gryffindor’s experience with Slytherins, it was hardly surprising that they had reacted so harshly toward Grace. Potter had to leap forward and pull Millicent off Hermione since neither of the teachers seemed willing to intervene. 

"Dear, dear," said Lockhart, skittering through the crowd, looking at the aftermath of the duels. "Up you go, Macmillan..."

"Careful there, Miss Fawcett... Pinch it hard, it'll stop bleeding in a second,"

"I think I'd better teach you how to block unfriendly spells," said Lockhart, standing flustered in the midst of the hall. He glanced at Snape, whose black eyes glinted, and looked quickly away. "Let's have a volunteer pair - Longbottom and Finch-Fletchley, how about you--"

"A bad idea, Professor Lockhart," said Snape, gliding over like a large and malevolent bat. "Longbottom causes devastation with the simplest spells. We'll be sending what's left of Finch-Fletchley up to the hospital wing in a matchbox." Neville's round, pink face went pinker. Michael grabbed the neck of Jamie’s robes like he was holding the scruff of a particularly riled puppy, letting go only when he heard the slow hiss of her releasing an angry breath.

"How about Malfoy and Potter?" said Snape with a twisted smile.

"Excellent idea!" said Lockhart, gesturing Harry and Malfoy onto the dais. The crowd gathered to either side of the platform, muttering excitedly.

"Now, Harry," said Lockhart. "When Draco points his wand at you, you do this."

He raised his own wand, attempted a complicated sort of wiggling action, and dropped it. Snape smirked as Lockhart quickly picked it up, saying, "Whoops - my wand is a little overexcited--"

Jamie gave an incredulous look at the Weasleys who were all frozen in a mixture of hysterics and horror.

Snape moved closer to Malfoy, bent down, and whispered something in his ear. Malfoy smirked, too. Potter looked up nervously at Lockhart and said, "Professor, could you show me that blocking thing again?"

The two boys were glaring at each other again.

Lockhart cuffed Potter merrily on the shoulder. "Just do what I did, Harry!"

"What, drop my wand?"

Jamie snickered but Lockhart wasn't listening.

"Three - two - one - go!" he shouted.

Malfoy raised his wand quickly and bellowed, " Serpensortia!"

The end of his wand exploded. The crowd watched, aghast, as a long black snake shot out of it, fell heavily onto the floor between them, and raised itself, ready to strike. There were screams as the crowd backed swiftly away, clearing the floor. 

Jamie felt Bast step out in front of her and hiss violently.

"Don't move, Potter," said Snape lazily, clearly enjoying the sight of Harry standing motionless, eye to eye with the angry snake. "I'll get rid of it..."

"Allow me!" shouted Lockhart. He brandished his wand at the snake and there was a loud bang; the snake, instead of vanishing, flew ten feet into the air and fell to the floor beside the dais with a loud smack. Enraged, hissing furiously, it slithered straight toward Justin Finch-Fletchley and raised itself again, fangs exposed, poised to strike.

Justin was only a few feet away from Jamie, and Bast’s hackles raised with a protective hiss, but it was drowned out by a sound that could curdle blood. Another hiss had sounded, but this had sounded clumsy, and it had come from Harry Potter.

The snake turned to face Potter, inexplicably - the snake slumped to the floor, docile as a thick, black garden hose. Potter grinned.

"What do you think you're playing at?" Justin shouted, backing as far into the crowd away from him as he could get and before Potter could say anything, Justin had turned and stormed out of the hall.

People jostled and Bast seemed to have had enough of the danger posed to her charge. There was a blur of pouncing black fur, but the CRUNCH-SLAP sound of Bast grabbing hold of the snake and snapping its neck drew attention from the room at large. She sniffed her kill, hissed at it and then at Malfoy for good measure before trotting back to sit at Jamie's feet.

Snape stepped forward, waved his wand, and the snake vanished in a small puff of black smoke. Snape gave Bast a dubious look and added “Control your beast of a cat, Schwartz,” but the hall’s focus returned to Potter. 

Ron Weasley seemed to recover fastest, he moved up to Harry and pulled his robes, ushering him and a confused looking Hermione from the Hall. The crowd parted to let them exit, but there was a definite chill to the room’s atmosphere.

Once they had left, Jamie, Luna and Michael turned their questioning gaze on the Weasley twins who were looking flummoxed, but at least they weren’t looking horrified like the rest of the hall.

Professor Lockhart looked pale and scurried from the hall with a barely muttered “Class dismissed, but no one really seemed able to move.

“Why do I get the feeling that something just happened that purebloods understand more than I do?” asked Michael.  
The twins looked at the little group and pulled up matching smiles, “What do we look like, walking exposition dispensers ?” asked George.

“Basically, yeah,” said Jamie. Bast was circling her ankles and looking murderously at anyone who got too close.

“I didn’t know Harry Potter was a Parselmouth,” Luna remarked calmly.

“He’s a what?” asked Jamie, trying not to trip on her agitated cat before giving up and scooping her up. Bast climbed around Jamie’s narrow shoulders, putting her forepaws on Jamie’s head and began inspecting the area from her new high up position, alternating between trilling and hissing like some weird sort of furry radar system.

“He can talk to snakes,” said George

“It’s incredibly rare and only really been recorded in fairly dark wizards and witches,” added Luna.

“People are scared cause Salazar Slytherin was a Parselmouth, was sort of the most famous one.” Fred continued

“And with what’s been going on with Filch's cat and that first-year muggleborn kid, people are probably thinking Harry’s the Heir that was mentioned on that wall.” George finished.

Neville looked a little green. “You don’t think he is, do you?”

The twins looked at each other and shook their heads with a laugh. “‘Course not,” said George. “Sure his muggle relatives are right pieces of work, but Harry’s mum was muggleborn, Hermione’s muggleborn, the Potter family never married into any of the old lines that claimed Slytherin’s blood. Sure, that Creevey kid may have been a little irritating and Mrs Norris deserved a good kick, but Harry’s the least likely person I can think of who would want to go around scaring people.”

Jamie smirked “Thanks exposition team.” which earned her an eye roll from the boys. “Besides, the snake stopped moving after Harry spoke to it, sure Bast would have probably killed it anyway, but it didn’t seem like he was doing anything weird, you know… other than hissing.”

When Jamie returned to her common room, she found people were gathered in a large group around Justin, who had a blanket draped around his shoulders like a trauma victim and was clutching a large mug of hot chocolate. He looked pale and a few of the other students were giving him reassuring pats on the back.

The next day Professor Sprout spent the morning trying to fit socks and scarves on the Mandrakes, a tricky operation she would entrust to no one else, so Neville took the lead on running through a checklist of activities to get done before they all went off for the holidays.

Lessons passed with an expected air of excitement for Christmas with teachers trying to keep order and assign homework.

It wasn’t until the end of the day as the four friends were about to part ways for their common rooms that a shout rang out, loud enough to be head throughout the castle.

"ATTACK! ATTACK! ANOTHER ATTACK! NO MORTAL OR GHOST IS SAFE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! ATTAAAACK!" Peeves screeched 

Justin Finch-Fletchley and Nearly Headless Nick, the Ghost of Gryffindor Tower, had been found, petrified, with Harry Potter found first at the scene.


	21. Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short chapter cause I was ill and I needed a little transition between one term and the next. Hope you guys enjoy it.  
> Warnings: contains insinuated racism. A character opens up about being mixed race and being made to feel as though they do not belong, this is going to be a minor subplot where the character will go on to investigate their heritage and culture and work towards developing their own sense of self. This was important since a lot of times either a character's race is completely ignored/not mentioned and Westernisation often paints these characters as white, or their heritage becomes the only thing there is about them, the first thing anyone notices. I specifically did not put in description details for this character until now, so that people could get to know them as a character, but self-exploration and heritage is going to be looked at.

Bast was on high alert. Apparently a snake being summoned out of thin air, followed by a kid getting petrified was enough to put even a Fae beast of myth and legend on edge. There was no slipping in and out of shadow now. Friday night had seen Bast park herself on top of Jamie’s legs the second she had gotten into bed on Friday night and she was still there, ears pricked and swivelling, nose twitching on Saturday morning, eyeing the bedroom door with mistrust.

Bast had supervised as Jamie had packed her trunk. She was leaving most of her things behind in her dorm, but homework, sketch pad, running shoes and a few extra books were going back as well as her mother’s old school map. She, Luna and Michael and even Neville occasionally had spent occasional lunchtimes walking through the castle, jotting down approximate locations for where people had been found petrified 50 years ago. They were all in the newer parts of the castle. New being a relative term, given how it was still ancient, but it seemed as though the Great Hall, the Quad and Gryffindor tower were all the oldest. Unsurprising given how castles typically began as military and judicial spaces.

Common rooms, bathrooms, the library, the hospital wing and a vast number of classrooms were all newer. The attacks were predominantly on the second floor, with the dead girl Myrtle Warren having died in the bathroom right by the corridor Mrs Norris was attacked in, but they weren’t limited there by any means.

Justin Finch Fletchley had been found at the top of a staircase on the third floor, and of course, Colin had been right near the hospital wing. There were petrifications on staircases, near the library and even in a tiny passageway normally used for maintenance, where the previous caretaker had been found, frozen with a wrench as he reached up to fix a leaky pipe.

In any event, the petrification of another student, and a ghost had sent the school into a frenzy. The Hufflepuff prefects had been in the common room earlier that morning, insisting that Jamie should NOT go for a run that morning but rather pack her things and wait for other students to wake up to go to breakfast as a group.

Jamie locked up her trunk and, Bast close on her heels, made her way out to the common room. Patty and a few other first years joined her in leaving for breakfast but broke off when Jamie headed downstairs to meet Michael. Neville had said he would meet Luna that morning since the Ravenclaws still didn’t seem to have accepted her, so Jamie turned at the stairs, insisting she would be fine for the short trip alone. Michael, Vee and Grace were all standing outside their common room waiting for a bored-looking Henrietta to join them.

“I wasn’t done!” she was proclaiming loudly as Vee gave her arm a tug to hurry her along.

“Your hair looks fine. We’re just going to breakfast.”

“I don’t see why you are all so insistent we go together. I for one am a pureblood, nothing’s going to try petrifying me!” Henrietta said waspishly.

Vee let go of her arm looking hurt. “You say that like the attacks on muggleborns are reasonable.”

Henrietta sniffed. “I didn’t say that, I just said I’m not in any danger. Malfoy said so. You lot probably aren’t in danger either… except maybe Cromwell, I don’t know if Salazar’s monster could detect his magical blood over the garishly muggle-nature of that jumper.”

Michael was wearing a Christmas jumper with a happy looking snowman on the front that said “Season’s Freezings”. He tugged at it awkwardly as his face blushed right up to his ears.

It was Grace who broke the silence, she gently reached out and pulled Vee towards her, glaring at Henrietta. “We weren’t asking you to come with us because we’re afraid, we were asking because we’re your friends… or we were at least… I don’t think I want to be friends with someone who spends such copious amounts of time trying to beautify her face while brazenly showing off such a hideous personality. Go fix your curls then, Fawcett.”

“You’re choosing THEM over ME? Oh, I bet your father’s going to LOVE that Yardley, after he spent so many years trying to cosy up with the right sort of people after all his… Mistakes…” She said, giving Grace a poisonous look. “Oh and look, it’s your favourite pet Hufflepuff, come to complete your set.”

Grace looked as though she was ready to send a particularly nasty curse, but her arms were gently holding Vee who looked ready to cry. She turned to give a nod towards Michael and Jamie. “Come on, let’s go,” she said simply.

Bast carefully butted her head against Vee’s knee, doing the same to Grace and then Michael before carefully making her way to the rear of their little group. Henrietta was still looking spitefully at them but began backing up when Bast, fur on end, ears pressed flat let out a low, warning hiss that seemed to sink into the marrow of the bones.

“Keep that - THING away from me, freak.” shrieked Henrietta.

“Nah,” replied Jamie with a nonchalant shrug. “Don’t feel like it.”

Bast edged forward a little more, slowly backing the girl into her own common room. Henrietta gave a panicked huff, glared at the group as a whole and slammed the common room door.

The group was quiet as they made their way toward the Great Hall for a late breakfast. When they entered, the Hall felt almost too loud after the silent walk, the jarring nature of excited chatter of students looking forward to their holidays.

Vee cast a look over at the Slytherin table and then to Jamie, “Can we sit with you? I’m proud of being a Slytherin, and nothing can stop that… but today… I just don’t feel like sitting over there after what Henrietta said.”

Jamie nodded mutely, still reeling from the conversation she had witnessed, but leading the way to the Hufflepuff table where Luna sat reading a book. They moved to sit, robotically reaching for breakfast items and then not eating them.

“Grace…?” Vee broke the silence hesitantly. “Grace… what she said about your father’s mistakes… you know she didn’t mean you, right?”

“I think that’s exactly what she meant, actually,” Grace answered quietly. She looked around at the table before releasing a sigh. “During the war… my father and his family were fairly neutral, some say it’s the coward’s way out, keeping your head down and not picking a side. Dad’s pureblood. Not Sacred 28, but pureblood all the same. He didn’t let anyone take notice of him, just worked at his job in the ministry, not exactly an important position, international trade standard’s department administrator, so both sides of the war left him alone… Then he met my mum while he was in India for work. Not many people know, but Henrietta and her family know that mum’s a muggle. He stayed in India for a bit, then after the war ended he came back with an Indian wife and a baby. My grandmother was furious, apparently, none of the other families included my parents in social circles. My father started a business, though, using connections he made in India, families like the Fawcetts started talking to him again. But Mum pretends to be a witch, stays home, has house elves, hosts dinner parties, even carries a wand. She doesn’t talk about anything muggle… or India. I have her hair and her eyes and skin but know next to nothing about her. That’s what Henrietta meant, my father’s mistakes, my mum and me.” she finished bitterly, brushing harshly at her eyes.

“You’re not a mistake,” said Luna calmly. Her large bulbous blue eyes took in Grace’s slump in her usual perfect posture and passed her a small white handkerchief with embroidered daisies. “It takes a lot of courage being different, if anything, your father should only be ashamed of making you feel like you were something to be ashamed of. My papa wrote an article for the Quibbler last year about Indian contributions in the Muggle World Wars and in the fight against Grindelwald. You may not know much about your mother’s people, but you have every right to be proud of your heritage.”

Grace gently wiped her eyes with the handkerchief. “Thank you, Luna… that… means a lot.”

The group began to eat breakfast, the mood lightening slowly as talk turned to plans for the holidays. Jamie reminded everyone to please not owl her as her guardians wouldn’t know what was happening, Michael volunteered to post anything the Muggle way if they owled it to him, but given how short the holidays were, it was decided it would be better to wait until they got back.

Before they knew it, they were trudging through snow towards the thestral pulled carriages and the train.  
Jamie could hardly believe her first school term at Hogwarts was over, and the closer she got to London, the more she realised, she was homesick for the Harrises.

When Kings Cross came into sight, there was a ripple of excitement in their  
little carriage. Jamie had told the Harrises she wasn’t sure on the details of exactly when the train was getting in or what platform to look for her, but had agreed to meet at the information desk. Michael had helpfully asked his mother to meet the Harrises there and keep them distracted while people exited the barrier.

They all waited a little to let the older students off first, given that they could barely heft their own trunks and would hold up the crowd. On the platform, Vee and Grace parted off from the others with waves and quiet smiles. Grace seemed to tense when she spotted her father, standing right beside him was Henrietta, her older sister and their parents. Vee gently took her hand and lead the charge toward their parents, pasting on a very convincing smile.

Luna soon spotted her father, his strange homespun robes and near white-blond hair standing out vividly. He made his way over to their little group and smiled at each of them giving his daughter a tight hug and a kiss on the top of the head. “Alright there, my Luna?”

“Yes, Papa,” she said happily as he took her trunk.

He turned his pale eyes on Jamie. “James, wasn’t it?” he asked with a tilt of the head. “Luna tells me your head seems to be remarkably empty of wrackspurts, seems there must be something in that music player of yours, where did you purchase it?”

Jamie had to think hard, back to the conversation they had had at the start of term. It seemed Luna and her father both picked up and dropped conversations as though no time at all had passed. “Um… I think the Harrises bought it in London, I’ll ask them and tell Luna, shall I?”

His attention seemed to have ended mid-conversation because his gaze had shifted to Michael and he didn’t respond.

“This is Michael Cromwell, Mr Lovegood,” Jamie said awkwardly.

Mr Lovegood’s face lit up. “Cromwell! Spitting image of him, yes. Good man, excellent man indeed, went to school with him, haven’t heard from him in years!”

“You… you know my dad?” asked Michael.

“Gregory Cromwell?”

“Yes, sir.”

“He was in my year at school, Slytherin though and far more interested in potions than I ever was but, yes. Tell him I said hello will you.”

“I will if I see him, sir. He travels a lot for work.”

“Ah, yes, all the same… shall we go home then, Pumpkin?” He asked Luna.

She nodded and with quick hugs given to the other two, they made their way towards the queue for the large Floo Fireplace which only opened at the end of a term.

Michael snagged two luggage trolleys and helped Jamie haul her things on. “Hang on… where’s Bast?” he asked, looking about frantically.

The shadow at Jamie’s ankles thickened, a pair of gold-green eyes consolidated themselves in the not fully corporeal body and the darkness meowed cheerily. Michael jumped and then stared and pointed, looking from Jamie to Bast in quick succession.

“She does that…” said Jamie with an awkward shrug. “Just not really often at Hogwarts, but the Harrises don’t actually know about her.”

“Oh… right…” said Michael trying to roll with it. He was rather good at taking in weirdness and just moving on.

The two carefully made their way to the barrier between platform nine and three quarters and Kings Cross and leaned against the barrier, easily sliding through.

A grin split Jamie’s face as she spotted the Harrises. Mr Harris was wearing unmatching gloves and Mrs Harris was draped in both her own and her husband’s coat and was still shivering and clinging to her husband’s side for warmth while chatting amicably with Michael’s mum.

“Aww look.” said Michael with just a hint of snark and a broad grin. “They’ve made friends, we’ll have to arrange playdates for them.”

Jamie snorted a laugh in response, which caught Mr Harris’s attention. The next thing either of them knew is they were being smothered in bone-crushing hugs. Michael pretended to be dismissive of his mother’s concern about him looking thin or how he’d grown but Jamie swore she saw a sweet smile on his face when she caught a glimpse from under Mrs Harris’s arm.

Hugs exchanged, the Harrises and the Cromwell’s parted ways with words of “Maybe we could all meet up in London at some point for Winter Wonderland.” Michael gave Jamie a look that clearly said: “See, told you so.”

Despite the biting chill of the air outside the station, Jamie felt warm, sandwiched between the Harrises, they talked the whole way home. And it was home. Her bedroom was still empty of things from emptying it for Hogwarts, but the living room still smelled like the warm clean scent of the laundry Mrs Harris always ironed in there while watching TV, the kitchen smelled like biscuits and citrus, and it was home.


	22. New Term and Nuisances

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just really like how smells trigger nostalgia, okay guys? Also, Our Little Jamie feels at home uWu.
> 
> I don't think there are any triggers to report unless it's about snakes but then you are really reading the wrong series.

When the last day of the holidays rolled around, Jamie looked around her room with a pang of sadness. Her drawers now held the vest tops and shorts that Jamie felt she wouldn’t need until the Summer term. Her walls, while still reasonably bare, now held a caricature sketch of her and the Harrises from their trip to London with the Cromwells, the desk even had the little collection of Christmas cracker toys. By most people’s standards, it would still be considered sparse, but Jamie realised that it was the most personalised place she had allowed herself. Even after such a short time at Hogwarts, she had let her walls slip. She called a place home now, had friends. Maybe it was okay… to let herself hope that she could finally relax. She wouldn’t do anything that would leave a trace and endanger the Harrises if the worst were to happen, but a jauntily drawn caricature sketch could do no harm.

Jamie closed up her trunk with a final look about, making sure she hadn’t forgotten any books or homework. Mr Harris came in to help with her trunk and carried it downstairs. Jamie’s backpack was crammed full of mince pies and leftover Christmas cake and shortbread to share on the train but she found herself dragging her feet in heading for the car. Mrs Harris found her curled up in an armchair in the lounge hugging a couch cushion with her nose pressed to it.

“What makes it smell like this?” The small girl mumbled.

“Smell like what, love?” Mrs Harris asked, perching on the armrest and running a hand through Jamie’s hair, tucking a lock behind her ear.

“The home smell,” said Jamie, holding the cushion out for Mrs Harris to have a sniff.

Mrs Harris laughed but gave the cushion a sniff anyway. “Hmm… Smells like our laundry soap… My perfume, Arnie’s aftershave… and our lavender shampoo. Just the things that make up the smell of our family.” she said giving Jamie’s shoulder a squeeze. “Here, Why don’t you take the cushion with you, a little bit of home-smell whenever you want it. And then when you’re back for Easter, it can soak up the smell again.”

Jamie clutched the pillow tightly, pinching the edge piping occasionally before nodding and getting up to walk to the car. Mr Harris opened her car door for her, giving her a little nudge and an “It’ll all still be here when you get back for Easter.” when he noticed her staring at the front door as though trying to memorise it. She just slid mutely into the car seat, trying valiantly to hide how close to her fears Mr Harris’s statement had come.

It was a quiet trip to the station, Mr Harris hummed quietly along to the radio and squeezed Mrs Harris’s hand when they were stopped at traffic lights. Pulling up to the drop off zone, Mr Harris grabbed a luggage trolley and loaded up the trunk. Unlike the previous drop off, he didn’t pass the trolley handle over to Jamie, instead pushing it for her into the station while Mrs Harris wrapped an arm around Jamie’s shoulders and guided her inside. Jamie was still holding the cushion, using it to centre her thoughts. 

The station which had been sparsely decorated with Christmas things at the start of the holidays had returned to its bland and drab practicality. Even the people seemed more sombre, no longer collecting happy relatives but instead going about their busy lives.

Jamie’s thoughts turned back to Hogwarts, back to Luna and Neville and Grace and Vee, back to Colin in the Hospital ward and the monster that was still loose. She wondered if anyone else had been petrified while she was away.

She was pulled from her grim thoughts, however, by Mr Harris’s exclamation of: “Ah, yes, there’s Susan.” He waved Mrs Cromwell and Michael over.

The adults chatted for a few minutes until Mrs Cromwell turned to her son. “Have you got everything? Your train will be leaving soon, do you two want to head off and find a good spot?”

Michael nodded and nudged Jamie subtly with his elbow before hugging his mother goodbye and Jamie realised he had come up with a way for them to sneak off without the Harrises noticing them go through the barrier. She stepped forward to hug the Harrises, Mrs Harris giving an extra tight squeeze. Taking hold of the trolley from Mr Harris she gave them a little wave before following Michael.

Right as they got up close to the magic barrier between Platform 9 and 10, Michael stopped, turned back to give a final wave. A large crowd of tourists passed, blocking the adults from view and the two spun around and pushed quickly forwards through the barrier.

Michael shot her a quick grin, “Mum said to wait for a crowd and then she would ask the Harrises about going to grab a coffee together. It’s basically foolproof.”

She returned the grin, but Michael seemed to sense she wasn’t much in a talking mood. It was still reasonably early so they marched down the train to the end compartment and dragged their luggage on board. “Owled the others to let them know to meet us here,” he said by way of explanation.

Jamie nodded and ransacked her backpack for the assorted snacks she had brought before placing them all out on the little fold-out table for Michael to help himself as they waited.

It took until almost right before the train left for Vee and Grace to join them. “Sorry,” Grace said when they finally tumbled into the compartment. “Couldn’t get away. My father is insisting that Henrietta and I be friends and over our squabble, stood watching us on the platform. Henrietta has agreed to play nice when we’re both home for the holidays but she doesn’t want anything to do with us at school now.” she said, absently playing with her long hair.

Michael snorted inelegantly. “Well… Good riddance and welcome to the club. We have biscuits.” he said passing over the shortbread before turning to Jamie. “We need to find some more boys, this is getting ridiculous.”  
“You’ve got Neville,” said Jamie with a shrug and a laugh.

Michael rolled his eyes but did, in fact, go looking for Neville, who was looking for his toad, Trevor, something he apparently had to do frequently. When the two boys returned they all settled in to exchange Christmas gifts and stories. 

Luna had procured snippings of Quibbler articles and to the interests of her friends. Michael had gotten one his father had collaborated on, Grace got the article on Indian contributions and magical Indian traditions and beliefs. Vee stuttered a thank you when she was presented with a whole Quibbler edition regarding magical medicine, from plants, potions and charms to investigations into ethics and scandals in the Ministry of health, including a discussion on why the wizarding department for health should receive a part of the overall budget for national health care services, citing that while Muggle society had been prospering under the benefits of public healthcare, those most in need within the wizarding world, were unable to get treatment. The carriage had looked confused by this gift until Vee explained she longed to become a healer when she was older. Jamie had received a bottle cap necklace that was apparently “Good for luck” and an article about Defensive charms from around the world. And Neville, blushingly received a small plastic terrarium with a very large spotted blue mushroom Luna had dug up from her garden.

Grace and Vee had already exchanged gifts but passed around bags of treats they had put together with fudge, chocolate and every flavour beans. Jamie’s gifts were all muggle in origin. Vee seemed delighted by a set of glitter gel pens, Neville got a small encyclopedia on muggle plants. Luna got a small Cassette Walkman where Jamie had carefully sewn a flower crown to the headphone band, along with an Argos catalogue with the electronics section highlighted for her father. Grace got a small collection of muggle sweets she had never heard of as well as a notebook filled with handwritten notes. When Grace gave Jamie a curious look she explained.

“My next-door neighbour Pamela is an Indian woman who married an English man. He died a few years back, but she always talks to me. Asked me how the term was and caught me up on news of her adult children. I remembered her talking about how her kids struggled at school cause they always felt stuck between two worlds and I mentioned you in passing. Apparently she gave that book to her daughter when she was younger. It’s got all sorts of stuff about Indian history and culture and her favourite recipes. She insisted I was to give it to you and write to her with any questions you come up with if you want to ask her anything. She even said that if you wanted to visit in the summer, that she could teach us how to make some of the stuff. I know your dad probably wouldn’t let you come to a muggle house, but maybe you could say you were visiting Luna or Vee and then everyone comes to mine for the day?”

Grace looked back at the little book, devouring it with new eyes. She asked Jamie to pass on her thanks and thanked Jamie for the sweets but her eyes immediately turned hungrily back to the book. Finally, Neville passed around a tiny pot to each of them, explaining that they were flowers representing the month the receiver was born in and that his gran had charmed them to stay small and in bloom year-round. 

It was pitch dark long before they reached Hogwarts, but little lanterns marked the way to the carriages where the six of them all squeezed in together. It was a bit tight, the older students only managing four per carriage but the weather was bitterly cold and so long as Neville kept Trevor far away from Vee, they managed quite comfortably.

The new term started well. The Christmas break seemed to have raised everyone’s spirits considerably. The younger students still seemed ill at ease but the older students seemed to return to a business as usual style approach. In fact, Fred and George Weasley decided it was their civic duty to make fun of any remaining fear and paranoia.

Whenever they overheard anyone whispering about Harry Potter being the possible heir of Slytherin, their antics were turned up a notch. They went out of their way to march ahead of Harry down the corridors, shouting, "Make way for the Heir of Slytherin, seriously evil wizard coming through..." Jamie would have found it funny, except she noticed that Hermione Granger was missing at the start of term and did not turn up, even as the first week came to an end.

Neville reported that she was in the hospital ward, which caused some distress until he reassured her that she had not been petrified; apparently she had only consumed a really, really bad potion. Jamie would have doubted this, if it wasn’t for the fact that she went straight back to helping in the greenhouse with Neville, Michael and Luna and delivering ingredients in the mornings, where she heard, quite plainly, Hermione speaking to Madam Pomfrey behind a set of privacy curtains before Madam Pomfrey had collected the package from Jamie and sent her on her way.

Jamie felt like she was going to enjoy this term, they had finished covering most basic principles in their classes and were now onto new and interesting topics every week.

In transfiguration, they had reviewed Reparifarge and Switching spells and then once they were all seated, Professor McGonnigal turned her desk into a pig and back again before it could cause too much trouble. She explained that while what she had just demonstrated was very advanced, they were moving on to transfiguration of living things, starting with plants. Jamie now had a pot plant on her dorm room desk (next to the chrysanthemum’s Neville had given to her for Christmas) which she happily transfigured from roses to peonies to some pretty yellow winter aconite, before finally letting it be as a large pot of lavender which scented her room beautifully.

In charms, they had moved from locking and unlocking spells and the ethics surrounding them, to the basics of defensive charms. Professor Flitwick had brought in a few confiscated black market talismans from the previous term to explain why they were ineffective.

“Charms are quite possibly one of the most focussed and specific branches of magic. There are no such things as charms to defend against generic “evil”. There are charms which may lend themselves well to blanket protections, but the best charms are specific. Please turn your attention to chapter 26 on Poultices and Charmed objects.”

They spent a few lessons with a chart on plants and magical ingredients which lent themselves well to blanket protection poultices before turning to the production of protective charmed objects. Jamie was pleased to note Ginny had started looking calmer, and more cheerful during lessons, likely due to the complete lack of terrifying incidents since the previous term.

Jamie showed Professor Flitwick the poultices she kept on her person at all times and he excitedly exclaimed over the contents. “See these metal bits, pure silver, holds charms best of any metal of course. Yes, very good!”

Professor Flitwick no longer felt Jamie was in any danger practising her spells by herself, only asking her to have a session when they had a spell like the cutting charm which might go badly wrong, but he asked her to check in once a week. Professor McGonagall had told Professor Flitwick about Jamie's project of compiling and comparing Defence Against the Dark Arts notes and readings from previous years. Professor Flitwick kept a VERY professional manner regarding the subject, but his eyes did widen considerably when he learnt the year group had not practised a single defensive spell all year. After that, he encouraged Jamie to try out a few of the spells she had read about, namely the disarming spell and the Leg locker and full body bind.

“Charms can come in very helpful in a pinch when in a duel you know, no one is ever really expecting them, you see. Can’t tell you how many nasty situations I’ve avoided just by blasting people with a good Aguamenti. If people expect you to throw a jinx or a curse, they’ll be quick with a protego, if they expect a disarming spell they’ll cast the counter spell or one more powerful. Creating a sudden blast of noise or lights or water or air blasting out of nowhere gives the advantage of surprise, gives you a bit more time to think and either get out of there or ready a better defence.”

Michael was having an absolute ball of a time in potions given the vast array of ingredients they were getting to try out. Jamie just concentrated on keeping her glossary and notes up to scratch and avoid them and herself getting spattered with Horklump juice and gizzards. The class was working its way up to making a forgetfulness potion, so after a few lessons on ingredient preparation, they had a guest lecture on the memory removal spell needed in order to complete the potion. Dumbledore himself came in to talk about the dangers of misuse of the charm and potion, including detailed summaries of the long term effects on St. Mungo’s hospital patients who were victims of badly done, completely irreversible spells.

“While the obliviate spell is not considered illegal, for its obvious and necessary uses, Ministry obliviators who perform the spell on muggles have to be specially trained. No one should ever perform a forgetfulness spell or administer a forgetfulness potion on a fellow human being unless absolutely necessary, people have been sent to Azkaban for using them inappropriately. Mostly in fraud and extortion cases.” the Headmaster intoned calmly.

Fortunately for everyone involved, the potion itself changed from a violent red colour to a pale lilac when the spell was cast on it, so everyone was handed test tubes with a few drops of potion in each to practice on until they matched the right shade on a colour pallet, so there were no incidents or accidents.

“A masterful obliviator spends years practising the art of compartmentalising EXACTLY what they want to remove. These potions are far more general as first-year Obliviate spells will blanket erase all memory. If any of you have talent enough to reach OWL or NEWT level potions classes, you will repeat the making of this potion, but for a specific memory as well as learn the cure… However, as students must consume their own potions, I would not recommend the class to any but the most capable.” Snape had drawled.

Michael, who was Jamie’s cauldron partner for potions grinned. “Can’t wait til Newts then, my great aunt once stayed with us and she’s a bit mad. Walked out of the bathroom completely starkers once, said she forgot her towel. I’d like to drink a potion that helped me forget seeing that!”

Even Herbology had become more interesting. They had finally moved away from drying, pickling, potting and planting and were now beginning to look at reactive and near sentient species like Devil’s Snare, Venomous tentacula and to the delight of Jamie and her housemates, bowtruckles, which shyly hid in Professor Sprout’s hair and pockets during the lesson.

Astronomy was always a little difficult as it was always held once a week at midnight, and given Jamie’s early bed and waking up times, she often had to resort to ditching her morning and evening runs the day before in order to still be buzzing with energy for the lesson, but she had dozed off quite a number of times with Luna gently giving her arm a prod any time it became obvious. But they were learning about constellations and navigation and Jamie enjoyed learning about the constellation which inspired her middle name “Canis” after Canis Minor. They had, unfortunately, missed the Canis-Minoids meteor shower due to the weather before the holidays, but the star chart more than made up for it. Canis Minor was featured above the Monoceros constellation so it looked rather like a little dog riding on the back of a unicorn.

Jamie was pleased to know that quite a lot of the History of Magic topics were centred around topics she had learned a little about already in muggle school but with the focus being on what wizardkind was doing, which, up until the Statute of Secrecy, wasn’t all that different from their muggle counterparts. She had to hand it to Professor Binns, he may be dull and monotonous in his lessons, but it took some real determination to consider “The importance of teaching students history” to be “unfinished business” enough to stick around after you had died. Or as he had wearily put it when Jamie had asked: “I will ensure that the students of this school receive a comprehensive education on the history of our world… even if it kills me… again.”

To that end, Jamie, Luna and Michael had decided to focus on studying spirits in their defence classes this term, and since most of the school ghosts were being rather skittish after what had happened to Nearly Headless Nick, Jamie decided to ask Professor Binns any questions they had. 

It seemed to Jamie that it was only really in lessons where the dryness of repeating the same curriculum he had done for generations, sapped all enthusiasm from his voice. Anytime Jamie actually asked a question after the lesson, he seemed to re-animate with curiosity and joy for his chosen subject.

Jamie was incredibly curious about why some ghosts, like vengeful ones, could move objects, while others were incorporeal echos reliving their past.

“Most just don’t apply themselves, the echo spirits that barely have a personality were terrified of life and terrified of death but never really had anything in mind when they died other than the fact that their lives were things they knew and were comfortable with enough that they preferred it to dying. Those are the ones who can never move past what they did during their own lives, or even change out of their death clothes (like a certain Baron in this school.) they tend to think that an eternity spent wafting down corridors going “WOOOOO” at first years constitutes a valid career choice. Some keep to their life time’s fashions out of convenience or lack of imagination, but Sir Nicolas for example, died in the 1490s, if Peeves is to be believed, he spent almost a century in his death clothes, his head swaying violently any time he turned around too quickly, made many a student violently ill until they got used to the sight. Then came the Elizabethan era. He took a look at those new starched ruff collars and decided he would take up that fashion instead. But if one applies themselves, one can interact more thoroughly with the physical realm. I have been able to write on a blackboard since the moment of my death since it was something I did so very often in my life, but few ghosts are able to conduct magic in the same way they did in life.” He paused and swirled his wand and the little piece of chalk that lay on the desk levitated and began to swirl in a gentle dance, tracing swirls and arcs along the desk face.

The only thing that was genuinely terrible about lessons was Gilderoy Lockhart. Before the holidays, he had been fairly obnoxious, but he was also too busy being focused on all the students who hung on his every word to really pay that much attention to anyone who WASN’T focused on him. Professor Lockhart began noticing when his assignments on “What was Professor Lockhart’s greatest achievement?” or “Draw or build a recreation of a scene from Voyages with Vampires.”

Luna, Jamie and Michael ass turned in regular essays with essay titles that had been assigned to previous groups of first years, however, these were barely spared a glance before a large red “T” for “Troll”, the lowest grade possible was applied, often with the phrase “Not the assigned work!” written across the page.

The trio didn’t particularly care, Professor McGonnagal had assured them that the end of year exam, while put forward by the Hogwarts professors, was evaluated by an independent evaluation board for educational standards in the Ministry, and further checked by the school’s Board of Governors. The actual, defensive magic discussed within Professor Lockhart’s texts was generally very sound, otherwise, it would not have been published or accepted as assigned school books. It was just that neither Jamie, Luna nor Michael had any desire to spend hours trying to rummage through the dramatic tales in order to note down the core information.

Between their regular homework, their learning of basic defence magic, and their work in the greenhouse, they had barely had a moment to think about the Chamber of Secrets in any kind of depth, but one morning at the end of January as the Great Hall filled with breakfast goers before the day’s big Quidditch match of Slytherin versus Ravenclaw, the trio overhear another of the Weasley Twins’ dramatics.

"Oh, get out of the way, Percy," said Fred. "Harry's in a hurry." 

"Yeah, he's off to the Chamber of Secrets for a cup of tea with his fanged servant," said George, chortling.

“Harry! Harry!” grinned Fred, pretending to hold out a microphone. “Can you tell us when the next attack will be?”

"Oh, don't," Ginny exclaimed at the both of them as Harry and Ron pushed their way out of the crowded Hall. “You know they’re both still worried about Hermione, Madam Pomfrey says she’ll be able to leave the hospital wing in a week or so, but that potion must have been bad!”

Jamie tuned the Weasley family out of her mind as they hurried out to watch the game. It was a miserable day, the weather was basically sleet and Jamie had absolutely no desire to sit out there watching speck-like people chasing after enchanted balls. But her mind did catch on something as she watched the parades of green and blue-clad spectators carrying banners with large angry and hissing snakes or ferocious-looking eagles.

“Fanged servant…?” said Jamie curiously. 

When the other two looked up at her with furrowed brows she elaborated.

“The Weasleys said that people were scared of Harry because he was a Parselmouth, just like Salazar Slytherin was. And Slytherin’s house crest is a large snake… It makes sense that Dumbledore would be so sure the monster WASN’T an Acromantula, why on Earth would it be? Snakes, on the other hand, can stay alive for ages, if there was a magical type of snake that could petrify people, it could totally live from Slytherin’s time (Whenever that was exactly) to 50 years ago and until now.”

“But again, Dumbledore said there were no bite marks, a snake bite would be noticeable. And then he also said it specifically WASN’T paralysis, I’ve never even heard of a type of snake that could petrify people. I think if there was one, the Headmaster would have worked it out by now.” Michael said.

“What about mythological creatures?” asked Luna. “There’s a lot of snake-like creatures in mythology, if one was real and Slytherin could control it, it opens up a great deal more options.”

“Like Medusa or the Gorgons in Greek myths?” said Jamie. “Medusa could turn people to stone by looking at them, that could just be how people in ancient Greece describe petrification, I mean it’s accurate enough. And the Gorgons could kill with a look too.”

“You think Medusa was like… a friend of Slytherin’s, took a really long nap, woke up 50 years ago really pissed that her beauty sleep did nothing for her, petrified a bunch of people, killed one of them and went back to bed?” asked Michael dryly.

Jamie rolled her eyes. “I’m saying there are a LOT of snake-like things in mythology, cause people associated snakes with evil and a lot of beliefs about killing with a glance come from the way people believed eyes worked. They believed eyes had like a fire inside them and that that fire shone outward so we could see, or alternatively it shot out a sort of substance that could see whatever it touched. The idea was, that something that was evil would, naturally shoot out something poisonous or deadly and kill anything that looked at it, or alternatively that the evil thing would snuff out the holy fire behind a person’s eyes. The point is that there have got to be a bunch of magical creatures which were so rare that they were only recorded in myths, meaning no one would know what to look for. Instead of them shooting evil goo out of their eyes, it might just be as simple as a sentient, powerful dark creature.”

“We could make a list of the most likely candidates if we look through some mythology books and bestiaries,” said Luna excitedly.

Michael sighed dramatically, but was quick to pack up his bag, and by the time Jamie met the other two in the Library with the mythology books she had from the Harrises and the Bestiaries from her Gringotts vault, he and Luna had already dragged tables and chairs over to their old research area near the school records and had a growing stack of mythology and ancient magic books, as well as notepaper and quills.

The bestiary Jamie selected was a relatively modern translation of collected medieval bestiaries. It categorised things into: Stone, Plant, Beast, Bird or Serpent. Which came in useful, Jamie simply copied out the names of anything listed as a serpent and then went through to actually read the descriptions and cross out any which were either harmless, like frogs, or clearly mundane creatures that did nothing much more magical than hiss and bite. 

Her shortlist came to four creatures, the basilisk and the cockatrice, were both described similarly, almost interchangeably in some descriptions, however, the basilisk was portrayed as a tiny, highly poisonous snake that could kill with a look, while the cockatrice was more often described as having a rooster’s head and a snake body. Both were said to be either hatched by placing a snake egg under a rooster, or a chicken egg nurtured by a toad (which was categorised as a serpent) or some other form of snake. The dipsa was considered to be an absolutely tiny snake which could kill you before you even felt the bite. Jamie figured that perhaps, there was something in magic which made you immune to a degree, it might perhaps explain why so many victims were petrified rather than dead. And finally, the scitalis was described as a serpent with such marvellous markings on its back that its appearance stuns the viewer, Jamie figured that perhaps this could have been a magical creature that petrified potential prey in order to get close to it before killing it.

Michael and Luna had both looked into mythology books and had come back with confirming Medusa and the Gorgons as a potential theory, adding to the list Echidna the half serpent mother of monsters and a Siren, which, depending on what you read was either half fish, like a mermaid, or half snake.

“All these mythology ones seem to be women who petrify and kill on purpose, which, while in character for something that’s going around targeting kids, is still kind of horrifying, and it doesn’t quite fit, I mean Slytherin would have to convince these fully sentient women-being things that she should kill muggleborn kids but only when an heir of his tells her to.” Said Michael with a frown. “I don’t know about you two, but I know my mum would probably do the exact opposite if some random man told her to only do something when a man tells her to…”

Jamie snorted a laugh. “I feel like your mum probably could petrify a man if she had a mind to though.”

They were still chuckling over the image of Susan Cromwell’s death glare from when some man on the tube had tried to tell her she would be prettier if she smiled, when Luna spoke up in her usual, soft, dreamy voice.

“Didn’t Hagrid say that one of his roosters was killed a while ago?”

Jamie rubbed her temple trying to remember. “I think so, why?”

“Back when we went through the school records, there was a note from the caretaker before he was petrified, asking for a replacement pair of roosters after the previous ones were killed,” Luna said.

“I genuinely don’t know how you remember that sort of thing but… okay, I guess. You think this has something to do with the cockatrice or basilisk thing?” Michael asked.

“Maybe, I guess if they had fairly normal lifespans, maybe the monster isn’t the same being but instead Slytherin just left instructions on how to hatch a basilisk and they stole the roosters to do it, made it look like a fox got them or something. The heir last time might have had some trouble with getting it right so used two but left better notes this time?” Jamie pondered. 

“Neville’s toad does go missing quite often, I hope Trevor hasn’t accidentally fathered a lean, mean, scaly killing machine…” Michael said trying to lighten to mood a little.

“At least we know one thing, according to the bestiary, weasels can kill it.” said Jamie, looking around for the transfiguration section.”

Michael sighed exasperatedly. “You’re going to try and make us learn how to transfigure things into weasels now, aren’t you.”

“It could be useful! Life and death levels of useful! And they’re teeny tiny and eat snakes, probably useful just if you share a house with Malfoy the snake-summoning duelist.” quipped Jamie, getting up and fetching several transfiguration books.


	23. Valentines and Vendettas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MULTIPLE CHAPTER UPDATES??? ON ONE DAY??? BY THIS AUTHOR??? INCONCEIVABLE!!
> 
> Can you tell I hate Lockhart? I think I am rather subtle about my dislike. SUBTLE. (I may have had a shitty teacher once who made people feel bad about themselves and channelled my rage.)

Hermione Granger finally left the Hospital ward at the start of February. Jamie, Luna and Michael first discovered this when she hissed at them to be quieter while they practised transfiguring various objects into weasels in one of the homework rooms. Clearly, missing a month of lessons had been stressful for the academic witch who had her nose buried in a large book.

None of them had been particularly successful, but then, inanimate to moving, animated, vicious animal transfiguration was second-year level work at least. Jamie had tried back in her own dorm room with her blackthorn wand and had managed to make a rock elongate a little. It had given a single, painful bite with some stone weaselly teeth before promptly solidifying again, but she kept at it.

According to Professor Sprout, the mandrakes were “becoming moody and secretive” which hadn’t made much sense until Jamie had joined Neville in the greenhouse to watch how the long row of pots would go from a murmuring, irritating, whiney whisper you could hear through the thick ceramic, to dead silent if anyone got within a few meters of one of them.

Gilderoy Lockhart seemed to be slowly grating on every teacher’s last nerve. He turned up at the Greenhouse once to “check in”, poked at a plant which wrapped a deep purple tendril around his hand and promptly started draining it of blood. Professor Sprout had extricated him from the plant and asked him pointedly to leave. Jamie couldn’t tell if he was bored or if this was his regular state of being, but he seemed to be trying to redraw up some of the original enthusiasm his presence had had at the start of the year.

Neville told the others over lunch one day that Lockhart had been irritating Professor McGonnigall while they were lining up for transfiguration. He seemed to be now claiming that he himself had made the attacks stop. Clearly, regular life as a teacher did not suit him. According to Neville he had honestly said: "I don't think there'll be any more trouble, Minerva, I think the Chamber has been locked for good this time. The culprit must have known it was only a matter of time before I caught him. Rather sensible to stop now, before I came down hard on him.”

In lessons, he kept hinting at some great surprise he was planning. “Just you children wait, you’ll love it!” he would say with his signature wink.

The surprise came on the morning of February fourteenth. Jamie had grabbed several pieces of toast before heading out for her run and the greenhouses and absolutely nothing was abnormal, however, when she, Luna and Neville returned an hour later for a more substantial breakfast, it was like the whole world had been turned a blinding, neon pink. The walls were all covered with large, lurid pink flowers and heart-shaped confetti was falling from the pale blue ceiling. 

Luna appeared as though she hadn’t noticed anything amiss, sitting pleasantly and looking about calmly while Michael goggled at the sight, horrified.  
It was rather difficult to find any food not contaminated with the pink confetti, everything from the sausages to the beans was covered. The fried eggs were slowly leeching the paper of it’s pink and red dye leaving the yokes an unappetising shade of orange. Jamie carefully helped herself to a few soft boiled eggs and some more toast, keeping a careful shield over her egg.

Much to the clear distaste of many students and staff, particularly Filch, Lockhart, wearing lurid pink robes to match the decorations, was waving for silence. 

"Happy Valentine's Day!" Lockhart shouted. "And may I thank the forty-six people who have so far sent me cards! Yes, I have taken the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you all - and it doesn't end here!"

Lockhart clapped his hands and through the doors to the entrance hall marched a dozen surly-looking dwarfs. Not just any dwarfs, however. Lockhart had them all wearing golden wings and carrying harps.

"My friendly, card-carrying cupids!" beamed Lockhart. "They will be roving around the school today delivering your valentines! And the fun doesn't stop here! I'm sure my colleagues will want to enter into the spirit of the occasion! Why not ask Professor Snape to show you how to whip up a Love Potion! And while you're at it, Professor Flitwick knows more about Entrancing Enchantments than any wizard I've ever met, the sly old dog!"

Professor Flitwick buried his face in his hands and Snape gave a poisonous glare that said exactly what would happen should anyone so much as try.

Professor Lockhart seemed to be having the time of his life, everywhere he went, he shot a small stig of mistletoe with a sticking charm to the roof while adding a burst of confetti.  
Mr Filch looked ready to commit violent murder.

All day long, the dwarfs kept barging into their classes to deliver valentines, to the annoyance of the teachers, and late that afternoon as Jamie and Ginny were leaving Charms, Ginny for Transfiguration and Jamie for potions, Ginny stopped dead on the stair and grabbed Jamie’s arm. She’d been more talkative recently but now she was silent and her face was blushing furiously. Jamie tried to figure out what she was looking at and spotted Harry Potter being accosted by one of Lockharts “helpers”.

"Oy, you! Arry Potter!" shouted a particularly grim-looking dwarf, elbowing people out of the way to get to Harry.

Harry seemed intent on escaping, the dwarf, however, seemed to be getting paid per completed delivery, because he cut his way through the crowd by kicking people's shins, and reached him before he'd gone two paces.

"I've got a musical message to deliver to Arry Potter in person," he said, twanging his harp in a threatening sort of way.

Ginny’s face had now drained completely of blood and Jamie worked furiously on schooling her expression so that the other girl wouldn’t think she was being laughed at. She was still gripping Jamie’s arm in a vice.

"Not here," Harry hissed, trying to escape.

"Stay still!" grunted the dwarf, grabbing hold of Harry's bag and pulling him back.

"Let me go!" Harry snarled, tugging.

With a loud ripping noise, his bag split in two. His books, wand, parchment, and quill spilt onto the floor and his ink bottle smashed over everything.

“They had to send a violent dwarf!” Ginny whispered a little hysterically. “That’s really not the image I was aiming for.”

Harry scrambled around, trying to pick up his belongings.

"What's going on here?" came the cold, drawling voice of Draco Malfoy. 

“Oh no. Oh no no no no no no no.” Ginny was whispering

"What's all this commotion?" said another familiar voice as Percy Weasley arrived.

Ginny now looked as though she wished the ground would swallow her, she was biting her lip with her eyes dancing frantically around the scene.

Harry tried to make a run for it, but the dwarf seized him around the knees and brought him crashing to the floor.

"Right," he said, sitting on Harry's ankles. "Here is your singing valentine,” he strummed the mini harp again, it was horribly out of tune.

“His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,

His hair is as dark as a blackboard,

I wish he was mine,

he's really divine,

The hero who conquered the Dark Lord”

The crowd around them burst into laughter, some almost crying with hysterics. Ginny on the other hand, just looked ready to cry. Harry was laughing too, but it was the awkward, “please leave me alone” type of laughter similar to what Luna used when she wanted someone to go away.

Jamie put her hand carefully on Ginny’s which was still gripping her arm and gave it a little squeeze. She was frozen to the spot and Jamie figured the best would be to stay with her. Percy Weasley was trying to disperse the crowd.

"Off you go, off you go, the bell rang five minutes ago, off to class, now," he said, making shooing motions."And you, Malfoy--"

Malfoy had stooped and snatched up something from the ground, a small black book. Jamie could have sworn it looked like Ginny’s diary, especially given how her eyes widened at the sight of it, but it was Harry who spoke. 

"Give that back," said Harry quietly.

"Wonder what Potter's written in this?" said Malfoy. A hush fell over the onlookers. Ginny was staring from the diary to Harry, looking terrified. Jamie wondered if there had been a mix-up, or perhaps Ginny had given Harry the diary in some kind of effort to confess her crush through writing.

"Hand it over, Malfoy," said Percy sternly.

"When I've had a look," said Malfoy, waving the diary tauntingly at Harry.

Percy said, "As a school prefect -" but Harry pulled out his wand and shouted, "Expelliarmus!" 

The diary shot right out of Malfoy’s hand into the air. Ron, grinning broadly, caught it.

"Harry!" said Percy loudly. "No magic in the corridors. I'll have to report this, you know!"

Malfoy was looking furious, and as he turned to enter the Charms class, passed Ginny. He yelled spitefully after her, "I don't think Potter liked your valentine much!"

Ginny broke out of her shock, covered her face with her hands and ran down the stairs. 

Ron pulled out his wand, and looked ready to curse the other boy but Harry pulled him away. And Jamie made her way to potions. She just hoped Ginny would be alright.

Jamie hadn’t seen Ginny all through lunch, and while they weren’t exactly close friends, she worried all the same, so by the time Defence Against the Dark Arts started that afternoon, Jamie wasn’t really in the mood to deal with Professor Lockhart’s jubilant mood or headache-inducing wardrobe, let alone the fact that he seemed determined that today, everyone needed to pay attention to him and his Valentine-themed lesson.

He started taking points anytime he caught Luna or Jamie “not paying attention”, which really meant any time he caught them making notes about Women in White and Women in Black spirits, which was the topic they had chosen for today. The rest of the class were learning the first practical spell they had ever been taught, spells for styling hair.

“Some might suggest that these spells don’t have a use outside of public appearance, but let me tell you, Vampires in particular but many other dark almost-sentient creatures are reminded of their place when faced with a well-put-together wizard or witch. Nothing threatening about a mess of a person standing in front of them covered in mud, is there?”

Jamie, whose natural waves were beginning to frizz and stand on end under the repeated administration of the spell, muttered angrily under her breath. “Yeah, because curly hair and a fluorescent wardrobe, is really going to help us in a pinch.”

Unfortunately for her, Professor Lockhart, pointed her with a look and said loudly “Something to share with the class, Miss Schwartz?”

“Nothing, sir,” she said.

“Come come now, don’t be shy. You seem to be struggling, there’s no shame in asking for help.”

“I wasn’t, sir. I was merely musing about how this is the first practical spell we’ve learned this year, and wondering exactly how much use it would be in knowing how to defend ourselves should the need arise.”

Lockhart’s grin was slipping slightly. “The rest of the class, those who have been paying attention in lessons, have learned a great deal about which spells work best in which situations. This particular lesson is meant as a fun, whimsical treat, one which clearly, you do not deserve!”

“A treat, sir? It’s barely been a month and a half since a student was attacked with dark magic. Shouldn’t we be learning how to defend ourselves? I’d hardly class a bad hair day as dark arts.”

“In case it escaped your notice, Miss Schwartz, the attacks have stopped! The students need to relax, get back to learning and wait for their classmates to be recovered. But very well, if you can’t appreciate this lesson as a break for the well-deserving other members of this class, you can sit down and work. Perhaps if you paid more attention in my lessons you would learn something about defensive magic, if you had read my book, Holidays with Hags, you would have learned that mistletoe, holly and elderberries are all wonderful deterrents against hags and fire sprites! I want a 24 inch paper by Monday!”

“That fact was disproved by a very simple experiment in “Hedge Magic for Beginners” by Kendall Blessard, a book written over a century ago. It only still exists as a concept in academic circles because people view hedge magic as lesser to witchcraft and wizardry.”  
“I beg your pardon?” shouted Lockhart “You know I think I’ve had quite enough of your cheek! 15 Points from Hufflepuff! And Detention!”

Jamie quirked an eyebrow dryly at Lockhart before raising her wand and calmly incanting "incendio animate".

With a tiny flick of her wrist, a pulse of fire burning blue and hot woofed from the wand tip like a dragon hiccuping. It swirled for a moment, while the other students shrieked and scurried to the far end of the room, before consolidating up into a fire sprite. It was small, barely the size of an outstretched hand, with a bulbous head and a little swishing tail and nub-like arms with no digits. It seemed to stretch before looking about the room and catching sight of the mistletoe sprigs scattered about the room. It seemed delighted, clapping it’s nub hands and wriggling with delight. It flew and swooped, eating each with a whoop of blue flame, leaving little scorch marks as it went.

“Fire sprites and hags exist almost entirely on a diet of festive foliage because of the traces of happiness and joviality t tied to them through magic and tradition, it’s why people used to hang Holly on their door frames, so that passing hags or spirits drawn to a village by the joviality of the holiday season, would pass through the village, rather than lingering, much like leading a wild creature with a trail of food crumbs.”

The fire Spirit had finished snacking and was gazing about the room looking hungrily for more and growing steadily larger and more orange-yellow with rage as it realised there was no more to be had.

Professor Lockhart was doing nothing to calm the class as they huddled together, he was doing nothing about the fire spirit, who seemed to be throwing a tantrum and was scorching the roof. He was glaring at Jamie and Luna who stood quiet and calm beside her.

“I have learned quite a lot of defensive magic in this class, sir, just not from you,” Jamie spoke calmly before pointing her wand at the creature who looked ready to charge. “Aguamenti.”

The creature charged headfirst into a spray of water, turning instantly into steam. The jet of lukewarm water dribbled to a stop, leaving the classroom slightly damp.

Jamie met the eyes of the professor in front of her and walked calmly out of the class without a backward glance, Luna right beside her.

They were surprised when they almost bumped into Professor Flitwick who looked for all the world like he had been eavesdropping. After valiantly attempting to school his features away from laughing, he signalled them forward and whispered "20 points to Hufflepuff", loud enough only for Jamie and Luna to hear. Before tapping his nose with a wink and turning on his heel to be on his way.


	24. Contentment then Terror

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where shit starts to get dark folks.  
> Warnings: Suggested killing of the mandrakes (they are potion ingredients but still thought I would do a warning); also mention of the blood writing on the wall of the bathroom.  
> Ginny is possessed and it will show so if you are triggered by stuff like possession or fighting for control of your own body be aware of this. I'm new to writing so if these are things that genuinely are a problem please let me know how I can make my story accessible to you without triggering.

Professor Lockhart had been incensed by the incident on Valentine's day, he wanted Jamie expelled, but that was very much a decision for head of houses to make, and Professors Flitwick and Sprout weren’t being obliging, in fact, they seemed to find the whole thing rather hysterical when they were quite sure that no students were around.

It was decided that, of course, the two students had behaved very poorly indeed and would need to spend the rest of the term with detention. However, the detentions were things like “Mop the Greenhouses.” “Clear the dungeons of ectoplasm using the Defence Against the Dark Arts first-year spell “Scurge”” or “Write out lines, and by lines I mean do your homework, I can’t abide the ridiculousness of lines.” So it wasn’t all bad.

The person Jamie was genuinely terrified of finding out, was Professor McGonnigal, given how well known she was for being strict and insisting on respectful behaviour, however, over a week had passed since “The Great Dampening.” and the most she had done was call Michael, Luna and Jamie into her office during lunch one day.

“I’ve had a word with Professor Snape, he’s wanted the Defence Against the Dark Arts position for many years now, and is very skilled in the subject. He has compiled a list of topic areas and essay titles he believes any first-year student ought to be capable of achieving. If you still have a mind to continue with my project of comparing notes for the subject, I’d be much obliged if you would try your hand at them.”

The list was… comprehensive. Michael found many of the topics were only covered in books normally recommended for second years, but chalked that up to being a mix of Professor Snape's natural proclivity towards advanced and technical work, and the guess that about 30 years of inconsistent teaching would water down the curriculum a little, so they knuckled down, checked each other’s answers until they were reasonably satisfied they understood each topic.

Professor Lockhart had returned to completely ignoring Luna and Jamie in classes, which suited them just fine.

In March several of the Mandrakes threw a loud and raucous party in greenhouse three. This made Professor Sprout very happy, but did mean quite a cleanup operation afterwards.

"The moment they start trying to move into each other's pots, we'll know they're fully mature, then we'll be able to revive those poor people in the hospital wing." she would say to anyone that would ask about them.

Before they knew it, it was April and teachers were beginning to load everyone with copious amounts of homework for the Easter Holidays. The homework for Defence set by Lockhart was writing an essay on the likelihood of the existence of the Easter Bunny, Which Luna actually decided to do for fun.

In the last week of term, the trio all decided to meet up and test how far along they were in transfiguring small objects into weasels. They used an old classroom bin, having learned just how bitey the creatures were. Luna and Michael could both get theirs to be fairly bitey rocks, Jamie could manage a weasel shaped rock that was a little furry but still solidified after about a minute.

“There has GOT to be a better method of defence against some weird Rooster-Bird thing than transfiguring pebbles into mini ferrets!” said Michael, kicking the dustbin

“The bestiary just said weasels were the only thing that could kill it! Maybe more research has been done recently, but the weasel thing seemed like the most straightforward.” Jamie answered, a little downtrodden and clutching her new weasel statuette (She had a bit of a collection, as well as a string of bite marks on her arm.)

“I can’t believe I’m suggesting this but… maybe we should research it a bit more.” Michael genuinely looked horrified by the notion, even though he was very good at research.

The library was busy, hectically so, with students hurriedly gathering books to make notes for homework assignments given that library books could not be taken home. So the trio gave up on the endeavour.

On the train to London, Grace handed Jamie the little notebook Pamela had sent for Christmas.

“I need you to keep this safe for me! I can’t take it home cause mum unpacks my trunk and I can’t leave it either since Angelica Evergreen shares a dorm with me and she’s nosy as anything. I put a list of questions in, you said your neighbour was okay with answering them right?” she said in a rush, biting her lip nervously.

“Yeah, should be fine. There aren’t any questions about magic are there?”

Grace grabbed back the book and hurriedly scanned through her list. “I asked about the deities… she talked about them a little, that’s not weird right?”

“Don’t think so,” Jamie answered

“Good, okay. Right,” said Grace as she watched Jamie carefully stow the little book in her rucksack. “And do tell her thank you!”

“I will,” said Jamie. “Well, technically I already have since I wrote home and asked the Harrises to pass it on, but I’ll tell her in person.”

Pamela, as it turned out, was delighted by Grace’s questions. She met Jamie and the Harrises as they arrived from the train station and read through the little note with a smile, explaining that there was still a good deal of the notebook that was blank at the end and that she and Grace could write back and forth with the little book.

Home was still there, just as Mr Harris had said at the end of Christmas, but this holiday seemed shorter than the Christmas one, purely because Jamie had much more homework and the Harrises had fewer days off of work. She spent her days jogging her old favourite route, catching up with the fae folk by the spring now that winter was almost past and they were actually able to hang about for a chat, doing homework and even met up with some of the girls from primary school who wanted to watch a film and get pizza.

The day before the end of the holidays had Pamela call over, asking Mrs Harris not to pack Jamie a lunch for the train as she had something special in mind.

The next morning, Pamela was by the garden fence. She was barely taller than Jamie was but had with her a large stack of lunchboxes and old ice cream tubs which emanate with an absolutely heavenly smell. As well as a small cooler bag she had borrowed from Mrs Harris. She explained it all as she passed each tub to Jamie who passed them to Mr Harris to carefully pack in the car.

“Grace can explain what to eat for starters, main and dessert!” She said proudly, “It’s now in her book. I made enough for all your friends!”

Jamie wondered exactly how many friends Pamela thought she had since it seemed enough food to feed an army, but she thanked her emphatically and carefully replaced the book in the safest part of her rucksack like the precious thing it was.

It was a little more difficult balancing everything Pamela had sent her with, but Michael added a few tubs to his own trolley, and with the same trick of waving until a crowd blocked them from sight they made it through to the Hogwarts Express.

Jamie had very carefully stacked the lunchboxes and once Grace arrived she was quick to scan through the notes in her book, a big smile taking over her face.

One of the large ice cream tubs held paper plates and some plastic forks. Another held what Grace excitedly described as “samosas” reading the written pronunciation guide. She began serving everyone immediately and glared at Michael when he tried to turn it down in favour of his cheese and pickle sandwiches. There was pilau rice with butter chicken curry, onion bhajis and naan bread. Then there were small, chewy sweets called “Jalebi” followed by Grace grabbing up the little cooler bag and finding six small pots of what looked like ice cream but was flavoured with cardamom, which Grace identified as being “Kulfi”.

The six of them were stuffed by the end, Vee, Neville, Grace and Luna all said how they had never had anything like it before. Michael and Jamie had both had Indian food from a takeaway before, but this by far surpassed it.

As Jamie cast a few quick “Scourgify” charms on the dishes before packing everything away into her trunk, she couldn’t help but smile at Grace who had curled up contentedly in the corner and was reading through the notebook.

Lessons started packing on the work in earnest. Jamie noticed that Ginny, who had been coming out of her shell the previous term, seemed to have shrunk back on herself a little since Valentine's day. She always told Jamie she was fine and turned down offers to join the group for lunch, however, so there wasn’t much Jamie could do.

Near the end of April, Neville began panicking about subject selections as third years had to take at least two electives. He probably would have found the choice much easier if it wasn’t for the fact that all of his relatives, and boy golly were there a lot of them, had started sending him letters with warnings and advice. One aged old relative kept addressing the letters to “Frank”, who it turned out was Neville’s father, and seemed to insist on thinking these were NEWT subject choices. “Can’t be an Auror without Arithmancy… well, you can, but it certainly helps.” The letter had said.

Jaime, Luna and Michael found him in one of the greenhouses with his head pressed firmly into the soft potting soil of a large flower pot so that his dusty blond hair looked rather like an odd shrub. Trevor sat atop his owner’s head, croaking sympathetically.

“Oh Neville, you mustn't fret so much” Professor Sprout was saying to the unmoving Neville shrub. “As someone who knew and taught both of your parents, I can say with certainty, all those relatives of yours are giving you advice based on what they knew of your parent’s career choices, wanted to be Aurors the both of them. You, on the other hand, are a lot more like your uncle Alfie, your mum’s little brother. A dab hand at helping anything that was alive, Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures were more his cup of tea. If he hadn’t gotten poisoned by that monstrous mushroom in cypress and wrecked his lungs, he would have been the best magi-mycologist known to date I reckon. 

Neville looked up, his face and cheeks were covered in soil but at this point, it almost looked like it belonged there. “Do you remember what he took as a second elective?”

“I think he took three electives in total. Care of Magical Creatures, Ancient Runes and Divination. No, don’t make that face and tell me you’d be hopeless at them! Ancient Runes is very useful for being able to read some of the old texts and even ancient warnings like what was written plain as day over that cave Alfie went into, only he dropped Runes after a while. Divination’s the sort of thing where you either have the skill or you don’t I’d recommend giving it a go at least since I think your mother’s family did have a seer once a long time ago. You can drop it if it doesn’t work, but don’t go winding yourself up into knots about future careers or you’ll wind up as grey-haired as I am by the time you’re 15.”

Neville had scratched some dirt off his forehead before shrugging and scribbling down his subject selection onto the little page in front of him.

“Hey Nev,” Jamie called, trying to lighten the mood. “I hear Gryffindor’s playing against Hufflepuff tomorrow. I’ve not been to a game since the first one. Want to meet at the dividing line between the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor sections and pretend to be fierce rivals? We’ve got snacks?”

Neville laughed, “Yeah alright short stuff. Harry’s gonna get that snitch for sure though.”

The game never happened, no sooner had they all seated themselves comfortably in the stands did Professor McGonnigal run onto the pitch, declaring the match cancelled and calling for everyone to immediately return to their common rooms.

Prefects confusedly started trying to round up their students. Professor Sprout grabbed Luna and said she would ensure she got to Ravenclaw Tower, given that the Ravenclaw spectator section was all the way on the other side of the pitch and she was concerned about her getting left behind. She then grabbed one of the Hufflepuff prefects and insisted that he see Michael down to the Dungeons if none of the Slytherins were in the stairwell.

There was a tense hour-long wait where Jamie sat in the common room at a loss for what to do. People were crammed into every couch and beanbag waiting to hear the news. Jamie was perched on a cushion on the floor near Patty and her friends, with Bast curled in her lap.

Professor Sprout eventually entered the room, looking grim. “Miss Penelope Clearwater, the 6th year Ravenclaw prefect, and Miss Hermione Granger, a second-year Gryffindor were found near the library. They were both petrified. From now on, all students will return to their House common rooms by six o'clock in the evening. No student is to leave the dormitories after that time. You will be escorted to each lesson by a teacher. No student is to use the bathroom unaccompanied by a teacher, therefore, there will be group trips. All further Quidditch training and matches are to be postponed. There will be no more evening activities. I’m sure I don’t have to tell any of you how serious this situation is. Please take every precaution.”

There was a clamour from students, those asking for more information, those wanting to visit Penelope Clearwater. A few of the older girls were crying and hugging each other, clearly friends with her. The younger students all looked terrified. Jamie sat quietly, hugging Bast who had sat up to listen to the news.

Professor Sprout did what she could to comfort her students and answer their questions. Slowly the crowd thinned as many distraught students trickled off, either to bed or to write home. When the questions had died down Professor Sprout carefully lowered herself into a plump sofa beside Jamie.

“Luna, Michael and Neville all got back to their dormitories alright,” she said quietly.

Jamie nodded her thanks.

“I know you like to go running in the mornings, but for the moment, I’d appreciate it if you stayed indoors with everyone else, at least for the next few days while the staff figures everything out. I’ve told Luna the same.”

Jamie paused, “Of Course, but, Professor… all the attacks have happened to people who were inside. I understand the need for staying in groups but, wouldn’t cancelling Quidditch and such just mean more people inside?”

Professor Sprout sighed. “It’s more a case of not having enough people to keep eyes out on where everyone is. Professor Flitwick is already working on a charmed board that will mark down when people enter and leave the common room so we can have groups going to breakfast at different times. I reckon I can talk to the other teachers about collecting you lot to help with the greenhouses again in a few days, goodness knows I can use the extra hands. You hold tight until then, okay?”

Two weeks later, further distressing news came. The Board of Governors and the Ministry of Magic had decided that since Hagrid had been accused of releasing the monster on the castle 50 years ago, that they really wanted to be seen to be doing SOMETHING in the face of the panic and outcry the attacks were having on worried parents. Hagrid was arrested.

Jamie overheard Ron and Harry talking about it over breakfast one morning. 

“But they’d just keep him under watch somewhere, right?” Ginny had asked. “Just so they know it isn’t him. They wouldn’t actually send him to -”

“Azkaban.” Ron finished. “That’s where the Minister of Magic said they were taking him.”

The Board of Governors had also apparently called for Headmaster Dumbledore’s resignation, but Jamie learned that from Draco Malfoy, who was sat at the Slytherin table bragging loudly about it.

Professor Sprout had come up to the strange little group of students from all houses that sat at Hufflepuff table and sat down. “Since gossip seems to spread like wildfire around these parts, I’ll assume you know about the Headmaster and Hagrid already?”

When they each shyly nodded she continued. “Hagrid had to leave behind his Boarhound Fang. Big thing but a complete sap. He’ll need walking and feeding at least once a day, the chickens will need feeding and watering and since the Mandrakes are all becoming so riotous I will need assistance to keep things running smoothly, can I count on the lot of you?”

They nodded again.

“Right then,” Professor Sprout added with relief. “Jamie, I’ll pick you up from the common room at 6:30 sharp, Professor Flitwick has agreed to pick up Neville and Luna at the same time since he does the morning rounds, we will meet at the back entrance of the castle that overlooks the greenhouses. Neville, if you could come with me to help set up the greenhouses for the day’s lessons while Jamie runs with Fang. Nowhere out of sight of my office, mind. Luna would you be alright with the chickens and Fang’s food and water? The veggie patch may also need watering occasionally.”  
Neville looked a little green but nodded. Michael chipped in. “I know I’m not a morning person, but how can I help?”

Professor Sprout shot him a grin “If you are all willing, I’ll collect the four of you from here at lunchtimes and at dinner time. We’ve still got potion ingredients and healing supplies to keep on top of. So long as you all stay together, you can do homework or help with those all you want.”

Vee, who had been dragging Grace over more often than not these days piped in “Can we help too? I really want to be a healer when I’m older.”

Professor Sprout nodded her assent, marking down the two girls’ names before heading back to the staff table.

The new routine worked well. Fang, really was a sap of a dog drooling on everything he came near, but he soon took to Jamie and Luna happily enough. He pined whenever they left and sometimes could be heard howling, clearly missing Hagrid.

On the 25th of May, however, their morning was incredibly weird. Luna and Jamie found car tyre marks in the grass near the edge of the Forbidden Forest, the foliage around the marks was bent at odd angles. Weirder still was when Luna found a vast amount of vomit in the pumpkin patch and to top it off, Fang utterly refused to go outside that morning. He had his tail between his legs and whimpered when the trees shook in the wind. Luna refilled his food and water bowls and stroked his velvety ears. 

“Do you suppose it was that car we saw fly over the lake at the start of the year?” she asked.

“Didn’t know cars could vomit,” replied Jamie dryly.

“No, that was probably whoever drove the car. Odd place to drive though isn’t it?”

Jamie didn’t really know what to say, but they headed over to the greenhouses before Professor Sprout told them off for being “Out of sight” for too long.

Professor Sprout delightedly told them all how the Mandrakes would be ready any day now as they walked back up to the castle. They paused to hand over ingredients to Madam Pomfrey and Jamie noticed that Mr Filch sat on one of the hospital wing beds, he had Mrs Norris’s basket on his lap and was gently stroking her fur.

He looked up when they came in and Professor Sprout walked over and gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Shouldn’t be more than a few days now Argus. She’ll be back to normal soon.”

~ ~ ~

On the 28th of May, Jamie was shaken awake by Professor Sprout. Bast was not best pleased by the sudden disturbance but the Nightgown clad Professor apologised for startling her and explained, “The Mandrakes are ready.”

Jamie scuttled to get ready and found a really exhausted-looking Professor Snape, a terrified Neville and Luna all waiting in the corridor outside the Hufflepuff common room.

Professor Snape took in the three students and intoned in his usual disparaging voice: “I really don’t see how this is necessary.”

To which Professor Sprout quipped in return “I suppose you want to go feed Fang instead then?”

Fang was dubious about going for his morning run, still shaken from whatever had occurred a few days ago. When the dog and chickens and veggie patch were all fed and watered, Neville met the two girls outside the greenhouse with a pair of earmuffs for each of them. “The cry of the mature mandrake can kill, so Professor Sprout asked me to check these work while we were out here.”

Professor Sprout had her sleeves rolled up and was pulling a mandrake out of its pot. She then handed it to Professor Snape who was wearing a large green splattered apron. Professor Sprout held up a hand for them to wait, until Professor Snape nodded at her then they removed their earmuffs.

“Herbology and Potions will be cancelled for today. I’ve asked Professor Flitwick to meet you back at the castle as we can’t leave.” She handed Jamie a large stack of papers after noticing both Luna and Neville had soil on their hands. “Give those to Professor Flitwick, he’ll hand them out so everyone knows what to do in our lesson slots.” She then sent them on their way.

Defence Against the Dark Arts was a nightmare. Professor Lockhart seemed to have taken the news of the ready mandrakes with delight and enthusiasm as everyone else had, but he kept jubilantly exclaiming: "The first words out of those poor Petrified people's mouths will be It was Hagrid.”

Jamie heard these very words again on the stairwell after Charms. Ginny looked ill. Knowing how close she had been to Hermione and how close all the Weasleys were to Hagrid, it was no surprise. Add to that how Jamie had noticed she was back to writing in her diary, she didn’t seem to be feeling alright at all.

“You alright?” Jamie asked, as they were nearing the end of the stairs and the Gryffindors were veering off to go to Transfiguration while the Hufflepuffs had a cancelled Potions lesson and headed towards the study hall.

Ginny looked at her, her pale face almost sickly. “I…” she stuttered, looked at the ground and tried to put together words. It looked like she was really fighting to say something but when she looked up, her eyes were glassy and all she said was “I have to go” in a distant sort of voice. 

She turned as though the movement pained her and walked away as though being dragged. 

Jamie wanted to go after her, but the Hufflepuffs were almost out of sight.

'Frankly, I'm astounded Professor McGonagall thinks all these security measures are necessary." Professor Lockhart was saying to the students he was escorting.

“Well…” Jamie thought, “At least I can claim there WAS a teacher around if anyone asks.”

"I agree, sir," said Harry Potter, making Ron drop his books in surprise and really rather leaving Jamie gobsmacked as she waited at the base of the stairs to talk to Professor Lockhart.

"Thank you, Harry,” said Lockhart delightedly. "I mean, we teachers have quite enough to be getting on with, without walking students to classes and standing guard all night..."

"That's right," said Ron, to Jamie’s immense surprise "Why don't you leave us here, sir, we've only got one more corridor to go--"

“You know what? You’re quite right.” Said Lockhart “Off you go then!”

Jamie suspected the two boys were simply asking to skive off and go see Hermione, she knew if it was one of her friends who had been petrified, she would have done the same.

Lockhart turned on his heel and made his way back down the stairs looking weary. Jamie stepped forward and tried to school her face into as pleasant an expression as possible, but Lockhart still glared. 

“What is it Shwartz?” he demanded.

“Sir, my friend Ginny Weasley was looking really ill during charms, I’m worried about her. I think she went off on her own instead of going to Transfiguration.”

“Probably just gone to the bathroom or the Hospital wing then.” Professor Lockhart said dismissively.

“But sir, we’re not supposed to go anywhere by ourselves right now.”

This seemed to have been the wrong thing to say as Professor Lockhart’s glare doubled as though daring her to make a comment about just abandoning his own students. Jamie kept quiet.

“Miss Weasley is a pureblood, Miss Schwartz. And if I recall our conversation from the beginning of this year, so are you. The true culprit has already been apprehended, if you are so concerned about your friend’s well being, go and look for her yourself.”

“Yes, sir,” Jamie replied bitingly. Before turning on her heel and heading in the direction she had seen Ginny leave. 

A shiver ran up Jamie’s spine as she took in the corridor she had entered. She, Luna and Michael had been avoiding this part of the school ever since they realised the prevalence of attacks that had occurred in this particular wing. She dug through her school bag for her mother’s old school map. There was a route to the hospital wing from this area, as well as a set of bathrooms.

Jamie hiked her bag up onto her shoulders. She would start with the bathroom, she reasoned. Ginny seemed like she would go try sort herself out in a bathroom rather than ask for help. If she wasn’t there she’d check the hospital wing, or maybe find the Weasley twins and beg off a look at their map.

But she didn’t have to, as she rounded the corner she saw a flash of bright red hair disappearing into the bathroom and followed. She didn’t even notice that a new line of blood-red text had been added to the wall, just a little ways along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The character of Pamela is in memory of my best friend's grandmother, an incredible, lovely woman who passed recently. She was always extraordinarily kind even when she first met me and I was a complete stranger. I wanted to immortalise her at least in some way for my friend. I started writing this fic to handle my grief at my own grandmother's passing.
> 
> I have written the final two chapters but am just editing them now so expect to see them very soon indeed.


	25. The Darkest Pit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As the title of the chapter suggests, this is THE grim, dark chapter. Warnings: there is the implication of torture of animals and sentient magical creatures, there is losing consciousness due to head injury but nothing is like HORRRIFCALLY explicit or anything, it is still technically suitable for general audiences over the age of 13. Just be aware that I have written this with like the darkest wizards of all time in mind.

The castle was chaos upstairs, but Jamie had no idea. Professor McGonagall was leading the charge on preparing to close the school (after getting Lockhart to get lost, that is) because new words had been scribed outside a girl’s bathroom on the second floor, words Jamie hadn’t read.

“HER BODY WILL LIE IN THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS FOREVER.” Were the words that Professor McGonagall had found when, after taking registration at the end of her lesson, had noticed one “Ginevra Weasley” missing and gone searching.

In fact, it wasn’t until after Professor McGonagall had dismissed the emergency staff meeting, instructing heads of houses to inform their students of the missing girl and to pack ready to head home tomorrow, that anyone at all noticed that another girl was missing.

Professor Sprout had informed her house in the common room. She had looked through the crowd for a pair of grey eyes belonging to a tiny girl clutching a large fluffy cat and had come up empty. She had asked around and Patty had said she had last seen Jamie after Charms, that she had disappeared and hadn’t been in study hall. Patty had begun to cry, blaming herself for not even noticing until she thought about it just now.

An exhausted and still Mandrake soaked Professor Sprout had burst into Professor McGonagall’s office sobbing that little Jamie Schwarts was missing. This had certainly changed things by quite a margin.

No one was speaking to Professor Lockhart, and no one barring him and a handful of students knew that Jamie was a pureblood. They knew for certain that Ginny Weasley was a pureblood, but suddenly “Her body will lie in the Chamber of Secrets forever” had a second possible meaning.

Jamie, however, was not in the Chamber of Secrets, she was, in fact, in a very very narrow pipe quite a ways above it. She was currently unconscious with absolutely no knowledge of the horror that was going on below her or above her.

Jamie had entered the bathroom, not looking to the wall with its words, merely concerned with her distressed friend.

Ginny had turned to look at her, but her eyes were all funny, they were milky white as though cataracts had formed over them.

Bast was hissing loudly, hair on end but Jamie took no heed of her, stepping carefully forward.

“Ginny? What’s going on? Why are your eyes like that?” she said tentatively. “Should I go get help?”

“You shouldn’t have followed me little mudblood,” Ginny said. Only it wasn’t her voice either, it was deep and hoarse sounding and there was a demented sort of grin spreading across her face.

It was then that Jamie noticed the blood dripping from Ginny’s hands. Jamie’s eyes widened as the thought registered in her mind. This was the second-floor bathroom, the one where the attacks on the school had both started and ended fifty years ago, and started again this year. And that word “Mudblood.” The only time Jamie had ever heard that word was when Draco Malfoy had said it.

“Oh my gosh… It’s you!” Jamie said with horror.

“Hmmm… not really.” Ginny’s hoarse voice singsonged. “Little Ginny Weasley is just a tool, one which I look forward to no longer needing. Her pure blood will save her from the fate that awaits you.”

Ginny raised her wand, but Bast leapt past Jamie and bit down hard on Ginny’s casting hand, giving Jamie enough time to get out her own wand, there was a thud as Bast was violently shaken off and hit a stall divider.

Jamie shouted the first thing that came to mind, something to let her get away. “Aguamenti”.

Her oak wand shot true and a blast of water shot out. Bast ran to meet Jamie, only Ginny had done something that blocked the water and pointed it straight back at her. The current knocked the wind out of her lungs and for a moment, she was sure she was drowning, slammed up against the bathroom wall, inches from where the door slammed closed.

When the water abated, she was dropped to the ground. Ginny was pointing her wand at Jamie again, dry as a bone, but her hand was quivering. Jamie took the moment of hesitance to scramble around for the wand the water had knocked from her Jamie reached into her other pocket for her blackthorn wand, only to freeze when she saw the milk-white eyes turn for a second to their usual brown. Ginny looked terrified, her eyes locked on Jamie before they turned white again in a blink.

“Patrificus totallus!” the hoarse voice shouted. Jamie’s body went still as a board, her fingers just skimming the edge of her wand. Bast made to take and angry leap but a silent, unspoken flick of a wand from “Not-Ginny” sent her flying and this time she didn’t get up afterwards.

Jamie’s lungs ached and she wanted to scream and cry but her body wouldn’t let her.

“As pathetic as Ginny Weasley is, I’ll give it to her that she’s a strong witch. She’s been fighting, oh so hard. Almost broke free just now. Pity she has to die.” Not-Ginny said with a shrug, before grabbing ahold of Jamie's ankle and dragging her over to the sinks.

The hoarse voice hissed something as though there was something caught in their throat and the sink descended, opening up to a gaping drop downwards into darkness. 

Not-Ginny sat down on the ledge over the chasm and then hopped off, dragging Jamie with her. 

The ledge hit the back of Jamie’s head hard, but it also knocked her arm further into her robe pocket, just far enough that the handle of her wand lay smooth against her palm. They were falling. A vice-like grip on Jamie’s ankle but she thought with all her might about being free and her wand twanged with magical life. The stiffness lifted. Jamie kicked out with her other leg and felt it meet with Ginny’s head. Clearly, Not-Ginny had not expected any kind of resistance because she let go. Jamie could barely see in the dark as they fell, Not-Ginny reaching out to try and recapture her leg. But Jamie saw dark holes, pipes interconnecting with this one and without thinking reached out and grabbed the first one she could reach. Her shoulder wrenched painfully, but she gripped hard and hoisted herself into a pipe she could barely crawl through.

Not-Ginny seemed to land with a thunk somewhere below. “You can’t run little mudblood!” it said. “My basilisk will find you, these pipes are her home!” another bone-chilling hiss had sounded. 

Jamie poked her head out of the pipe. She could see the light of the bathroom and figured she was about halfway down from where Not-Ginny had spoken. And then she heard the crunch of something vast sliding across something that crunched and snapped the way only bones ever did.

If that was the Basilisk, Jamie thought, no weasel, fully animated or not was going to be of any help at all. 

Jamie scurried further into the tunnel but a shadow passed across the light behind her and she froze, until she felt darkness that was warmer than it ought to be.

“Bast!?” she whispered hopefully

A Meow responded and Jamie pressed her face into soft fur and wheezed a sigh of relief.

The sliding crunch noise was getting closer as was a deep, bone-chilling hiss.

Jamie tried to press herself against the pipe, make herself as small as possible and screw her eyes shut but Bast had other ideas. Pointedly not looking back towards the entrance to the tunnel, she walked deeper still, occasionally flicking her tail to check that Jamie was following.

There was a bend in the pipe that went upward and Bast climbed it with Jamie following. Her arms and skull ached, but Bast did not stop until she had found a little dead-end in the pipes with narrow pipes going in multiple directions. There was no light here but when Jamie skimmed her hand along Bast’s spine she could feel how her ears had stopped their swivelling as though sure that here, at least for now, they were safe.

Jamie crawled into the dead-end, her limbs quaking with pain.

“You know, not that this is in any way a good situation, I’m kind of glad the bestiary was wrong about the size of that thing. “No more than seven fingers long” Sure would be easier to set a weasel on it, but at least this one can’t follow us here… Now I just have to hope Michael wasn’t right about Trevor the toad being a father to a little itty baby one.”

Jamie noticed her speech was slurring and that the corners of her vision seemed to be fading into an even blacker black than the gloom and darkness around them. It was the last thought she had before she passed out.

~ ~ ~

When Jamie woke again, it was to the rumble of a cave in. She couldn’t tell where it was other than that it was somewhere beneath her as the vibrations echoed loudly up the pipe system, coalescing like a physical thing at the junction of pipes just ahead.

Her muscles and head still ached but Bast was mewing loudly with concern in the same tone she used when waking Jamie from a nightmare, and swatting gently at her face.

Jamie groaned and sat up, the world swaying a little even in the pitch black. She dared not light her wand in case there were things in the dark still searching her out. But she realised that in her fuzzy-headed state she had left them both vulnerable. She scrambled through her school bag for her dragonhide herbology gloves, putting both on before making a fist with each hand and applying a light spongify charm to the parts of the glove that would touch pipes while crawling, but left the inner fingertips clear for grip. A further spongify was added to the knees of her woollen school tights. She then removed her outer robes as they were only going to drag her down as she crawled, and stuffed them into her school bag. She then cast a spell she had seen her mother cast a thousand times when she was young but had never actually done it herself. It supposedly blocked a person’s scent, she could just hope it helped a bit. This was the only spell she tried applying to Bast. She didn’t know if Bast had a traceable scent, but when hugged, Bast did tend to smell like a cat. With some hesitation, she cast a silencing charm on herself, hoping it would be enough to stop any sound she made from surprise if she slipped or lost footing or crawled over a downward pipe and nearly fell. She figured it was better to be silent now than it was to be ready to cast the limited number of spells she had at her disposal. Lastly, she used a set of hair bands to secure her wand to her arm so as to have it near, but not somewhere it could break or get lost. 

That done, Jamie hauled her school bag back onto her back and edged forward out of the dead-end pipe. She couldn’t stay here even if it was safer than the larger pipe, it wasn’t safe. Bast seemed to think the same because she took up position in front of her charge, swooshed her tail to check the girl was still there and then took off. Jamie figured it was almost certainly best to follow Bast than to try and blindly lead. If ever Jamie needed Bast to live up to her name and lead her through the dark underworld, now was that time.

They fell into a quiet rhythm which had Jamie reminding herself that Bast was anything but an ordinary cat. Her tail swatted Jamie on the cheeks to indicate a change in direction, on the chin to indicate an incline or decline and a very solid thwack to the forehead was given when she wanted Jamie to stop. At every stop, Jamie carefully felt along to the base of Bast’s ears, they twitched and swivelled carefully and once they started up again, Jamie could often see in the very dim gloom that a lighter but much larger pipe had been up ahead.

Jamie wondered what time it was, her stomach gurgled without making a sound and she thought about dinner, whether people had noticed she had disappeared. She wondered also if anyone would find her if they couldn’t find a way out.

Bast swatted her on the forehead, at first Jamie wondered if she had somehow heard the dark turn Jamie’s thoughts had taken, but her ears were swivelling and when Jamie sat down in the enclosed space she realised Bast was circling a downward pipe. Jamie could see a greenish light coming from below but Bast seemed sure this direction was safe. A tail swat told Jamie to follow and Jamie watched in the low light as her cat carefully crawled into the pipe and she followed.

The light grew slightly brighter but was still coming from beneath them, there was a break in the pipe and Bast wiggled slightly and then jumped straight down. Jamie edged her legs down before trying to shimmy her way but her shoulder gave out on holding her and she dropped. 

She wanted to cry out in pain but her silencing spell kept her mute, and then she saw something that froze her to her core. She had dropped into a vast hallway lit with magic torches that burned a pale green but before her, was a scaly hide and before she realised she had looked, there were its huge yellow eyes.

Jamie wondered if she was dead, maybe if she looked now she would see her body. She wondered if she would be the sort of ghost Professor Binns approved of. She wondered if it had been the “Not-Ginny” person who had been petrifying people since the Bestiary hadn’t mentioned anything about Basilisks petrifying people, perhaps it could only kill. She wondered all of this before realising that surely a dead person should not be doing so much wondering. And that was when she took in the rest of the beast before her.

It was a dragon. Huge and terrifying and utterly still. It had a vast chain restraint around its neck, snout and foreclaws. It looked so perfectly real that she couldn’t imagine it was stuffed or made of wax. She took in the rest of the hall. Many creatures lined the hall. It was like a horrifying tableau and Jamie was reminded of a scene from a book Mrs Harris had once tried to read her when she had first arrived. She had tried reading The Chronicles of Narnia but had only gotten to the scene where Edmund arrived at the queen’s palace surrounded by grotesque statues before Jamie had called it quits. In reality, she was terrified of more scenes with that Morgrim werewolf, but didn’t want to have Mrs Harris try and placate her with empty reassurances that “werewolves weren’t real.”

The hall featured a centaur and a faun and even a bear, on and on the hallway went. Jamie noticed that beside each sad, still figure was a plaque, like those they had in museums, but when she tried to have a look it was in a near-incomprehensible version of French, which was saying something since Jamie was reasonably good at French.

The corridor almost reminded her of the rest of the school, the main teaching section, as though this was once a wing for advanced students to admire.

Jamie nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw the distinctive silhouette of a man, but a quick glance at his teeth revealed sharp fangs, and an upper lip curled in a hiss. He, like all the other figures, was staring across to the opposite wall. Only, unlike with the others, across from the vampire was a large mirror. Jamie examined it finding nothing out of the ordinary besides how the vampire behind her was invisible to the mirror, leaving an empty set of robes. Jamie looked back at the vampire and very carefully approached it.

From this position, Jamie saw that the mirror was tilted against the wall in such a way that it reflected the roof above, including a small hole in the pipe. Nothing big enough for anyone to get down, but for a large eye to peep out of, certainly.

Jamie walked back along the passage and peered up. Sure enough in front of every figure was a small hole on the side of the pipe opposite to the figure itself.

“If eye contact with a basilisk kills, then why aren’t the holes on the other side?” Jamie mused. She looked at the mirror and thought of Perseus fighting Medusa, using his shield to peek around corners. A sickening sort of click in logic shifted in her brain. Colin had been found with his camera in front of his face, Justin looking through Nearly Headless Nick, and now that she thought about it, there had been a photograph taken 50 years ago of the staff and students who had been revived from petrification and an awfully large number of them, the caretaker included had worn glasses.

“Indirect eye contact petrifies!” Jamie said out loud without making a sound. She shivered with horror as she took in the hallway once more. The centaur, proud and strong and fierce, the faun, terrified and hunched, sentient creatures with language and reason. They might still be alive.

Bast mewed and looked twitchy. Jamie followed, swallowing down the bile in her throat. She couldn’t freeze, she couldn’t panic. She had to get out of here.

Bast led her down the long corridor and Jamie was just glad that the pipe running above their heads was barely bigger than the one they had come from.

She tried to keep track of the beings she passed. There was even a podium set up with a large wooden board. The flickering green light reflected off of tiny wings. Fairies, pixies and even tiny silphlings were held down to the board with wire.

Jamie had to take a breath. She crouched down on the ground and put her head on her knees. Bast crawled into the small space of Jamie’s lap, gently butting her head against Jamie’s chin. They had to move. Jamie knew.

She got to her feet and kept going, pushing down the horror to deal with later.

An archway led them into a second corridor. There were classrooms here, like a twisted, dark version of the school upstairs. Many had similar rune markings to the classes in the school, she recognised the one for “Charms” and “Potions” and wondered if this was just where Salazar Slytherin taught his students. The hallway was blocked with moss-covered rocks as though the entrance to this part of the school had been caved in a long time ago.

Bast sniffed around before tentatively entering a classroom. Jamie hesitated before going in. The rune above the door looked like one of the ones above the Defence Against the Dark Arts class, but she had no idea if that meant this room was for “Defence” or “Dark Arts”.

She figured out exactly which it was soon enough.

The room was set up like a laboratory, long marble tables were positioned along the back of one side of the room, there were old writing desks like what you saw in very old monasteries and a wall of bookshelves which seemed to come from different time periods. There were scrolls which near enough reeked of preservation spells, ancient tomes which were chained into the shelf and newer volumes, the sort of books Jamie thought wouldn’t look out of place in a second-hand bookshop.

She then noticed that while the floor was coated in dust, there was a path where the dust wasn’t quite as thick. The path led back to the marble tables. Each table had an animal… or what was left of one, draped uncaringly over it. Jamie struggled not to look but couldn’t look away from the horrifying scene. There was a notebook, left open as though waiting for the researcher to return any minute now, before Jamie even really thought about it she had walked over to it, disturbing the dust for the first time in fifty years.

She was rather surprised to see plain English, written in a neat script. The researcher had just documented the testing out of horrific dark curses on the deer that lay in front of the book. The researcher described frustration with their goal for the experiment not being met.

Jamie took note of the date. It was shortly before the death of Myrtle Warren. Whoever had written this book must have been the person who had opened the Chamber of Secrets last time. She flicked to the front page of the book. She was surprised to find the address of a muggle stationery shop in London, but there, on the top corner of the page was a name which had been scratched out violently, followed a second name which had been scratched out even more violently, followed by a very strange assortment of letters.

“ADDEILLMMOOORRTV”

Below that was a long list of names including “Lord Altrie”, “Lori Alvord” and finally a sentence which chilled Jamie to the bones more than anything had before “I am Lord Voldemort.”

It was an anagram, she double-checked, every letter of the initial sequence was present. She squinted hard to try and make out the original name.

“Thomas… something”

As there was no “H” in the anagram she moved on to the second scratched out name. She even peeled back the page to try and see if it was indented into the cover but it was no use.

She closed the book. Bast was looking at her and she knew that whether she died down in this maze of pipes and tunnels or managed to get out, she didn’t want this book to be where its master left it. Somehow, he or one of his followers had done something to Ginny somehow, she was sure of it. If these notes were important enough for him to keep out of reach, she didn’t want anyone reading it and perhaps succeeding at achieving what he had not… or perhaps had done, the book’s ribbon placemark was further along than the page she had read. 

Jamie packed the book into her rucksack. She didn’t like having it there but she wrapped her school robes around it and zipped it tightly shut.

In the corner of the room was a narrow spiral stone staircase. Bast followed it down and so did Jamie who was surprised to find it opened out into something akin to a teacher’s office. There were more shelves this time, the sets of scrolls each had a metal plaque in front of it denoting a date. The dates continued for the scrolls for a good 30 years before stopping the next shelf down had more scrolls but from over a hundred years after the last. This continued for quite some time. 

On a shelf closer to the main desk were some very old, but still titled and mass-produced texts, tomes about sanitation, healthcare and a few old muggle medical journals and old newspaper clippings with titles about something called the “Broad Street Pump” and “The Great Stink.” they were dated much older than Voldemort’s book, but she couldn’t understand why in the world an evil heir of Slytherin would be interested in something so outrageously muggle as sanitation, until she noticed a leather documents tube which revealed vast floorplans of the castle. The blueprints were titled “the implementation of pipes and modern sanitation.”

Of course… now that Jamie thought about it, it was rather bizarre thinking about the fact that the entrance to this whole place had been in a girl’s bathroom. Had the entrance always been there and the heir of Slytherin at the time just took over the project of building the pipes system to better hide it, were there other entrances?

Jamie tried to scan the plans but it was written in teeny tiny script and Jamie’s head was still throbbing. She replaced the plans in the tubes. She noticed only a few other texts and diaries which looked more modern.

There was another staircase in the corner of the room. It went only downward and seemed almost endless. Down and down it went into pitch-black darkness.

Jamie froze when she heard a sudden burst of music. It wasn’t eerie or cold but rather warm and loud and Jamie wondered if perhaps she was just a wall away from the Slytherin common room. Maybe someone was playing a record? But then there was a hate-filled roar and Jamie realised that whatever she was a wall away from, it most certainly wasn’t a common room. 

Bast had stilled, her ears swivelling. Jamie jumped at a few loud thuds and crashes but soon enough the world went still and quiet again, with only a slight echo of the previous warm music. Bast crept forward.

Further and further down the stairs they descended, until Jamie noticed that the walls had gone from bone dry to dripping damp and covered in moss. The magic torches here were snuffed out and cast no more glow. And then the staircase ended. And they were in a vast pipe-like tunnel but Bast did not turn back. To the left they could see more of the same green hue light while to the right was pure all-encompassing darkness.

Bast moved toward the light and as they got closer they could hear the faint, ever so faint call of the music they had heard before, only getting further away.

The pipe spilled out like a gutter but only when Jamie peered over the edge did she see the vastness of the space and within the great, vast area, lay a monstrous snake. Jamie threw herself backwards against the stone but nothing in the chamber below stirred and Bast continued to examine the scene.

Jamie peered out again. The snake lay deadly still and its great maw, still open and gaping, haemorrhaged blood.

There was nothing else in the chamber. Across the way, a large doorway stood closed tight, two engraved serpents carved into the stone blinked with emerald eyes.

That was the direction the last of the music could be heard from and Jamie wondered why it felt as though the bottom of her stomach had dropped out. 

Bast turned toward the gaping blackness of the path behind them and Jamie lit her wand. All things considered, she was reasonably sure that nothing in this dark hell was left now to hunt and terrify her. She just needed to get out.

~ ~ ~

Back up at the castle Harry Potter, Ron and Ginny Weasley and an obliviated Gilderoy Lockhart arrived safely in a bathroom on the second floor. They were herded into Professor McGonagall’s office by the witch herself and a very recently arrived Headmaster Dumbledore, and spent about fifteen minutes explaining the horror they had faced down in the Chamber before professor McGonagall had exclaimed “But what about Jamie Schwartz? She went missing too, did you see her?”

“Oh Merlin, Jamie!” shouted Ginny. She grabbed Harry’s arm and nearly began dragging him back toward the bathroom before Professor McGonagall calmed her down enough to answer.

“She was worried about me, she noticed I was acting strangely and I don’t remember everything cause Riddle was already taking over, but I think she followed me, tried to stop me, asked if she should get help… Riddle hurt her and I tried to fight him and I think I got through for a moment but it was the last thing I remember, her on the ground of the bathroom. I think she’s still in there. We have to go, we have to find her she was bleeding!”

Professor McGonagall looked horrified, Mr and Mrs Weasley clutched tightly to their daughter.

“Harry,” said Professor Dumbledore quietly, “I think Fawks has another trip to take. I will need you to open the bathroom sink again.”

He looked at Ginny, “You, young lady need rest and medical attention. I’m afraid to say that several hours passed between when yourself and Miss Schwartz disappeared and when your rescue party arrived, and you have no recollection of what exactly happened after that moment in the bathroom?”

Ginny turned green but shook her head.

The headmaster sent a grim look towards Professor McGonagall but said to the room at large. “We will look. If she is down there, Fawks will find her.”

Everyone in the room understood exactly how grim that statement truly was, but as they exited the office, Fawks took off an unexpected direction, the direction of the main entrance to the school. 

There, dripping from head to foot alongside a similarly drenched but very pleased looking cat, shivered Jamie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more chapter to go for this book one of the Canis Minor series :O I hope you guys enjoy.


	26. Dumbledore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG I ACTUALLY DID IT! This is the longest writing project I have EVER stuck with. But here it is! The last Chapter.
> 
> I have actually fleshed out multiple scenes from the other books so FEAR NOT, Jamie will return along with the whole crew in Canis Minor (Part 2) If you follow link for "More in the series The Black Night Sky" it will take you to part two... when I start posting it... I might add a place holder idk.

Bast had made absolutely certain that Jamie was safe under the watchful eyes of Madam Pomfrey, Professor Sprout and a vast herd of Weasleys, before she slipped out and returned with Jamie’s missing Oak wand from the bathroom.

“You guys worked out it was a basilisk? Ages ago? Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Ron was asking loudly. “We only found out cause Hermione figured it out and had a book page in her hand.”

“We didn’t figure it out, really. We thought Slytherin’s monster might be Snake-like because of the parselmouth thing and narrowed it down to some mythological beings and animals. But the bestiary said Basilisks were teeny tiny and entirely deadly. I just figured it had killed that one girl Myrtle Warren, fifty years ago and that the petrifications were all done by its master.”

“Moaning Myrtle was just the only one who made direct eye contact with it,” Harry said knowingly.

“Moaning Myrtle? The ghost? She stuck around and all this time she never said anything? How did she not see something, isn’t that the bathroom she haunts?”

“Ah,” Ron said awkwardly looking over at his parents “Don’t tell but at one point we were using that bathroom for a potions project for our own investigation. We didn’t see anything either.”

“But Moaning Myrtle has glasses, most of the petrification victims last time had glasses, I figure it blocked them from direct eye contact like the lens on Colin’s camera, why would she die then?” Jamie asked, picking up Bast and holding her close.

“Well… she said she’d gone in there to cry.” Said, Harry. “Probably didn’t put them back on again when she went to tell Riddle to get lost.”

“Riddle?” asked Jamie.

“Ah, that’s Vol-“

“Miss Schwarz, might I have a word?” Dumbledore asked the Hospital ward at large, ceasing the conversation. “I am quite sure it won’t take long at all and you will be able to join the feast, and your friends soon enough.”

Jamie was exhausted and in all honesty, had no desire whatsoever to do anything more than take a sleeping draught and go straight to bed, but she dutifully clambered from starched sheets, gave a reassuring half-smile and shrug to Ginny, Harry and Ron before following the old wizard, remembering to keep her eyes down as Mr Pilchard had told her.  
It felt almost like being back inside the Chamber of Secrets where eye contact with the old and powerful creature before her could mean danger, but she made it as unobtrusive as possible, distracting herself by trying to guess where the end of Dumbledore’s chin lay behind his long, bushy beard.

The professor led her, not back to McGonagall's office but to his own, speaking the password “liquorice twists” to the gargoyle that guarded the entrance. 

Once the two were seated, Jamie took the opportunity to look around, and Dumbledore gave a quiet chuckle. “Did Mr Pilchard warn you against looking me in the eye in case I used Legilimancy on you or are you just that interested in examining my office?”

Jamie froze, took a deep breath and bit her lip before letting her anxiety out through her fingers tap-tapping on the arm of her chair. She focused on the large oak desk between them and said “The first one.”

“Ah,” replied Dumbledore, a mixture of disappointed and impressed. “He’s a smart man, although rather paranoid. I haven’t extracted information from a person’s mind since the war, and pride myself in always asking people to share first. I would never forcefully look into your mind, you are no criminal or Death Eater suspect.”

“If it’s all the same, Professor.” answered Jamie, my eye contact avoidance did serve me well this afternoon, I reckon I’m almost good at it now, would be a shame to stop.” she tried to keep her tone light while still being clear that she was not letting her guard down.

Dumbledore paused but then nodded, “Whatever suits you most, I do, however, wish to ask you some questions, if that’s alright?”

“Of course professor.”

“You said earlier that you saw Miss Weasley entering the bathroom and went after her out of concern?”

“Yes, sir. She had been acting more and more anxious since the night Mr Filch’s cat was petrified, sir. I know she and Hermione Granger are friends, they were on the train together at the beginning of the year, I figured she was upset, then professor Lockhart said something about it being Hagrid’s fault and she looked terrified and was acting strangely.”

“Why not find a teacher?” 

“I did, sir. Professor Lockhart was passing by after abandoning his second year Gryffindor students in the middle of a corridor on their way between his lesson and their next one, he didn’t seem to think a pureblood girl was in any danger, and since he knew I was pureblood too, he told me to go check on her if I was worried. I caught up to her just after she went into the bathroom, and I went in after her.”

“Ah, yes. Professor Lockhart wasn’t perhaps the best choice.”

“Statement of the year.” snarked Jamie. She could feel Dumbledore's eyes on her as she bit her lip.

“Yes… quite. As I understand it from Professor McGonagall, Ginny disappeared several hours before Mr Potter and Mr Weasley went after her. What were you doing down there all those hours?” 

Jamie paused. She could hear a note of suspicion in the headmaster’s voice and she resented it. 

“Did you interrogate Mr Weasley and Mr Potter too, sir? Or did you just pat them on the head, give them 200 points apiece despite them knowingly breaking a bunch of school rules and walking headfirst into danger? And for that matter, did you ever even call Draco Malfoy in for any disciplinary action when he used the mudblood slur in front of the entire school? When he gleefully went about as though the potential murder of muggleborns was something to celebrate. Or were you too scared of his father’s sway over your position?” She glanced directly at him, her eyes full of venom. “I asked a member of staff to go after my friend when I was concerned about her, he refused, so I went after her myself only to find her possessed by the darkest wizard of our time. As Ginny said, we fought, he put me in a full-body bind and dragged me into the chamber as a snack for his pet basilisk! I managed to break out of the body bind and haul myself into a small side tunnel and spent the rest of the time crawling around and squeezing myself into the smallest tunnels I could find in the hope that they would be too small for the thing to follow me.” 

She took an angry breath. “I passed out from the blow to the back of my head and woke up when I heard a cave in. I had no idea how much time had passed. I tried to find a way out, then after about an hour, I heard the phoenix song, except at the time it just sounded like music. I tried to find the source but by the time I got there, through the mouth of that ruddy-big statue, the basilisk was dead, the doors had locked closed and I had to try continuing to wade through sewage and wastewater to find an exit. You’ll have to forgive me for not filling my hours with action-packed heroics!”

The headmaster eyed her sagely, “You’ll have to forgive my questioning, I’m afraid. Mr Potter and Mr Weasley have already once before stood against Voldemort’s plans. I am not suspicious of you, my dear, merely curious. Up until recently, the Chamber of Secrets has been considered almost mythical. I’ve heard Mr Potter’s description of the Chamber, but it strikes me as peculiar that such a powerful wizard would go through all the trouble of making simply a large Hall to declare his own grandure and an elaborate home for a snake.

Jamie didn’t trust him, and she was angry. Angry that she was being questioned like this, away from the others, like a criminal after fearing for her life. But, he was the headmaster, she had to tell him something. She hated lying, and by all guesses, the places she had been, the horrors that were down there, had been used to educate the most dark and powerful wizards of all time.

“There was a room, it looked sort of like a laboratory, it had these bench tables. There were dead things in there…” she said, shivering with the memory. “They were spaced evenly out on the tables, everything from bugs to a cat and an owl, even what looked like a dog or a wolf. They were frozen, not decaying just stuck how they were when they died, like a preservation charm, but they were torn to bits.” Jamie tried to take a steadying breath.

At the time, with adrenalin flowing through her veins, she hadn’t felt the full horror, but now her stomach churned and roiled and she grabbed up a near by wastepaper basket just in time to be sick into it.

“I’m sorry,” said Dumbledore softly, handing her a tissue and a goblet of water. Jamie was about to drink the water greedily when Mr Pilchard’s words came back to her “Do not trust Dumbledore.” She swirled the water in her mouth to clear the taste of sick and spat it into the bin, just to be safe.

“There was a ledger.” Jamie continued, swallowing back the bile and clutching the bin close to her chest. “They wrote up all the things they did to those animals. It was like research notes, only whoever was doing it was testing dark magic, I read a bit of it, they seemed frustrated that they weren’t getting an outcome that they wanted.”

“Did it say what they wanted to happen?” asked Dumbledore, his voice still low and soft but with a cut of need.

“Not in the bit I read, professor,” said Jamie, staring into the fire. She sighed, set the wastepaper basket down and stood up, walking toward the warmth. “Mr Pilchard told me not to trust you, but he never told me why. Mum trusted you. She really did tell me to write to you if anything happened to her… Is there a reason Mr Pilchard doesn’t trust you?”

Dumbledore sighed and stood, coming to stand near the girl by the fire. “I suppose I am somewhat a collector of information, and he seems the sort of man to whom a secret shared is a secret lost and therefore, to him, I am dangerous.”

“But my mum trusted you?” asked Jamie.

He did not respond with the surety she expected but instead asked: “Do you know what your mother did during the war?”

Jamie froze. She did know. “Do you mean what the world thought she did, what Voldemort thought she did, or what you knew she did? Is that why you wanted to ask me all these questions? Because she played her role so well you couldn’t tell for sure where her allegiance was anymore and thought I might be the same?”

Dumbledore huffed a repressed laugh. “You are far too insightful for someone as young as you are.”

“Thanks,” replied Jamie with a dry tone “Probably a side effect of trauma.”

Dumbledore seemed rather taken aback by this until Jamie let a sad half-smile pull at her lips.

“She never betrayed the Order, you know. There was a setup. Voldemort suspected a few people after the Order’s information security tightened up.” 

Dumbledore seemed taken aback, but whether by her casual reference to the Order of the Phoenix, or because she had said the Dark Lord’s name so casually, was unclear. She continued Regardless. “They knew someone had leaked the information, that there was a spy feeding information to the Order. So, he let some information slip about plans, different information to each person he suspected, he had her followed. The next Order raid went horribly wrong since it was a trap and then they knew she had been the one to tell since that particular information was only given to her with variants going to other suspects. At least, that’s what mum suspected anyway. Mum had wards up, to let her know if anyone was trying to track or scry her. She apparated as far away as possible, didn’t even have time to tell my dad, just got as far away from him as possible to keep him safe, and just kept apparating whenever she felt them trying to find her again.”

“I had no idea. I just believed she had been killed… Who is your father by the way?”

Jamie gave a wry smile and a shake of her head. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Mr Collector-of-interesting-facts? Mum never really talked about him.” It was the lie she always told everyone who asked, but really it was none of their business.

She reached into the rucksack that had been dried for her but that she hadn’t allowed to leave her sight and pulled out a book. It was rather grimey but not overly waterlogged. She handed it to the headmaster. “The ledger,” she said by way of explanation. “I was only in the lake for a few minutes before the giant squid fished me out, should still be legible.”

Dumbledore took it, handling it carefully.

“It belonged to Voldemort.” she said startling him slightly “Says so on the inner cover. It’s an anagram of something, he scratched out two names. The one was Thomas something or other but I couldn’t read the other.”

“Tom Marvolo Riddle.” The Headmaster said quietly, “He always hated being called Thomas, and once he found out his father was a muggle, he hated that name too. Thank you, Miss Shwartz, this may shed some light on some particularly irksome questions I’ve been having.”

Jamie nodded before sitting down in the armchair that had been provided for her. She bit her lip. “The laboratory was only one of a set of classrooms.” she whispered. She still didn’t trust this man, but it was not as though she could single handedly find her way back there and unpetrify a dragon.

The professor looked up and his gaze was focused intently of the girl. “It looked like a wing of the school, like maybe it had been in regular use at one point, maybe for all Slytherins, maybe just for his most advanced ones. But there was this corridor… he used a mirror with a pipe in the roof to have the basilisk slither through. The pipe had holes just big enough to look through when it was much MUCH smaller. He angled the mirror to reflect its gaze. The corridor is filled with beings. There’s a centaur that was probably alive when the castle was built and a faun and some fae folk and a vampire and a bear…” she kept spewing out the names of every creature she had seen, their horrified expressions frozen in her memory. Until finally the full horror was hitting her and she was shaking violently. She didn’t remember retching again, but there was nothing left to come up, her body just convulsed and heaved.

The Headmaster was looking horrified as he tried to soothe Jamie and get her to breathe.

Bast stepped in by shoving her way onto Jamie’s lap and putting her forepaws on her chest and very gently pressed until Jamie felt it and consciously took a breath in. Jamie buried her head in Bast’s silky fur and just breathed.

“I didn’t see if there was anything in the opposite direction, but there was that hallway and the classrooms and then a staircase to an office which I think got used by other heirs of Slytherin and Probably Slytherin himself, before they blocked off the entrance to the classroom area. Then a staircase down to where the Chamber was. There was like a swerving gutter down to the Chamber but we didn’t go in since we saw the doors were closed. We followed the damp rocks, figuring the Chamber area probably flooded occasionally which meant some kind of opening which wasn’t currently underwater. There’s a crack in the cliff-face, only about thirty feet above the lake. I think it’s near where the school boats go in. I… I don’t want to go back there… but they were beings and I don’t know what petrification does to the ageing process but I can’t help wondering, what if they’re all still alive? What other horrific books were down there? I only took the ledger cause of the name, cause if he left it there I didn’t want anyone to know it was there but he must have learned all those spells somewhere.”

Her voice had become empty but she continued anyway “I don’t know if you, or anyone bigger than me could get in through the crack, but if we had to go in there to help them, I would. But for now, if you don’t mind, professor, I really think I need to go back to the hospital ward before I pass out. I’d appreciate you not mentioning this whole situation to Mr Pilchard. He’d probably try something drastic like pulling me out of school.”

“Understood, Miss Schwarz. And thank you, again… I will talk things over with people who may know more about the petrified beings and what might occur should we unpetrify them, should I let you know what I find out?”

Jamie nodded “Even if they’d die straight away, I think their people would like to know their fate, centaurs particularly. I hear they don’t have children.” 

She made to leave, but before she reached the door Dumbledore softly spoke. “You have your mother’s sharp mind, Miss Schwarz, and though it’ll probably get you into trouble at some point, you also have her unfailingly dry wit. A lot of people owe her their lives for the information she was able to get to the Order, and they will likely never even know it. Mr Pilchard is wise and careful in trying to keep you safe but should trouble ever come looking for you instead, know that I will always do my best to honour her memory and help. Professor Lockhart, not-withstanding, the staff at Hogwarts are always available to offer aid when it is asked for.”

Jamie looked him in the eyes for the briefest of minutes before nodding and taking her leave.

~ ~ ~

Jamie apparently almost missed the feast of the century. Her head still hurt and Madam Pomfrey had fussed and tutted and sent her straight to bed with a dreamless sleep potion.

She had gone to sleep beside beds full of Petrified students, but awoken to only Bast and Madam Pomfrey who, after looking her over, sent her down to the feast.

She was very nearly bowled over in the doorway by Michael who looked torn between hugging her again and hitting her. “You almost got yourself killed, you insane, little idiot!” He declared, checking her healing skull and assorted bruises with a critical eye.

Luna, Grace, Vee and Neville had hurried over but expressed horror and concern rather than the angry protective glare Michael had gone with. They delightedly told her how exams were cancelled “as a school treat.” And Jamie had to stop herself from gaping at the prospect. “But how will people in NEWT classes get jobs with no exam results!!??”

The Weasley twins had both come by their table to sternly wag a finger at her for “behaving far too much like a Gryffindor for her own health.” But a teary, recently released from Azkaban, Hagrid and a very slobbering Fang had interrupted in order to thank Luna and Jamie for looking after Fang while he was gone.

In all, Jamie was just happy to still be alive, and honestly, she rather hoped her second year of school would be less eventful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jamie has accidentally inherited a LOT of older brother figures but Michael has first dibs and his teeny tiny smol friend nearly died, he is a rage. Inspired by every headcanon for Slytherpuff friendships ever. 
> 
> TEEEEHHEEE HEE What could possibly cause mess and disruption at Hogwarts next year??? A Mystery. Truly.


End file.
